


The Webs of Panimar

by ink_hash



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Found Family, Gen, Medieval Fantasy, POV Original Female Character, POV Original Male Character, POV Original Nonbinary Character, hobby writing during quarantine, inspired from D&D, originalwork - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ink_hash/pseuds/ink_hash
Summary: [Updates every Sunday, semi-freeform work]A rising celebrity, a talking bird, and a magic scholar walk into a bar. Will there be a punchline?





	1. Von Boyage, Part I

The first thing I realized, as the last few strands of unconsciousness left me and I rose from my bed, was that the floor seemed to be drifting underneath. 

The second thing I realized was that this wasn't my bed. 

A low roof grazed my hairline, the air feeling damp and salty. The room felt far too small for me, swayed into a curve to one of its walls, a crescent-shaped space that left just enough room to walk around. Dents and scratch marks blemished the carpentry, which groaned in protest when I sat further upwards. My back was stiff from the lack of bedding. 

As I started to make sense of my new surroundings, I realized that my bunk was one of many, two other people slowly shifting awake like I had. 

“They’re waking!” A sharp voice called somewhere. “The stowaways are waking!” 

The dull thud of many footsteps sounded from somewhere beyond the room. The already constricted space was suddenly flogged by a mass of people that were too many to count, and the stench of salt became all the more stronger. Before I could get my bearings, a firm grip wrapped around my shoulder, dragging my feet to stand on the mahogany beneath us. I sensed a more intimidating figure behind the grasp looming over me. “Follow us, and don’t start anything funny.” 

One of my arms was pulled behind me before I was shoved towards the exit. It snaked into a narrow hallway with entrances to so many other rooms that I had lost count, wondering which one they would tell us to stop at. After guided through what felt like a maze, we stopped at the sight of an open door, sunlight pouring through its maw. Its touch repulsed me as we made our way towards it, and I wondered how long I had been asleep. 

Looking around, I could see the other two stowaways in the same position I was in, an arm bent and rested on their backs, each escorted by two hulking members. The wooden floor beneath stretched out to meet the gentle blue slopes of a vast sea, its colours lit on fire by an ageing sun. 

It was then I realized that I was standing on the hull of a ship. 

“Captain.” My own escort nodded towards his right, and I turned my head to see the surrounding horde make way for a broad-shouldered sight. 

He was a man of fleeting youth, silvery wisps of curly hair hidden under a large tricorne. He carried himself with a deliberate pride. His outfit, a leathery green coat, were cut and ragged at the seams. A large belt hugged him at the torso, holsters carrying a plethora of small weapons. One arm rested on a curved and worn scabbard. 

“Well, well, well...” His coy look cushioned a velvety voice, taking one measured step at a time towards the three of us like a leopard taking strides around its prey. “Let’s see what we have here.” A cheshire grin stretched his face, eyeing us all with the faintest sense of excitement. It felt difficult to remember that he was an actual captain about to evaluate his captives, rather than a child gleaning his unopened presents with barely hidden glee. 

“You.” He pointed suddenly. “Let’s start with you.” 

\------ \--------------

**Jhakkii Paagal**

“Me?” I blinked, feigning ignorance. Well, I knew I would be first to be questioned, of course. It was the curse of being the oft most attractive Landstrider in a ten-mile radius- I always caught the eye for trouble. The bedhead did set me back a bit, though. 

“Yes, you. Could it be- if I'm not mistaken- The Reanimator, among my hustle?” 

I swelled with pride at the sound of my stage-name, taking care to flash my most charming smile. “Your one and only, Cap’n.” 

He dropped his hat and gave me a courteous bow. “A pleasure to meet you. Well, partly. I don’t play favourites with my captives, even C-list celebrities the likes of you.” 

“Maybe getting to know me better would change your mind.” I lilted. “If your stooge would be so kind as to unhand me, we can gladly-” 

"Uh-buh-buh, not so fast there." He tipped his pirate’s cap back onto his head, raising his thick eyebrows. “All I want from you is the name, miss. Payment enough to fetch a nice ransom for the crew.” 

I frowned. Well, there goes my first escape plan. I dropped my flirtations and glared at him, trying for intimidation instead. “I'm sure that would go over well with my entourage. Why, my biggest show tonight at Lokesville? Havoc would wreak if my audience realizes the main attraction is missing. You think they don’t already have a rescue team searching for me? Any moment now, your ship is gonna be swarmed by their arms.” 

“I’m quivering in my boots here.” He said dryly. “Riddle me this, Miss Paagal; Do you... Ah, remember how you came here in the first place?” 

"I-well-" I felt myself falter under his knowing gaze, hazy memories slowly clawing their way back to me. “Of course, but do entertain me.” I lied. 

“You were chucking molotov cocktails at the different ships that were docked on Icehide harbor. From what my crewmates told me during their night shift, you were shouting something about ’death to the Duskstars‘, followed by a very off-key rendition of ’The Gurgle Shanty’.” He explained. “To put it mildly, you were drunk off your ass. You ended up toppling into our cargo hold as your attempt to bomb our ship slipped from your grasp.” 

His gaze seemed to bore into me with every word, expression flat with mild frustration. Looking away, I raised a free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ears, toying with my piercings. It was... a very emotional night. 

“You’re lucky we gave you a place to rest when you passed out from the alcohol. We moved you to out lower bunk cabinet until your hangover mumblings drew to a close, and now we’re here.” He clasped his hands together. “We had plans to send you back to the docks of Lokesville when you came back to life, but sadly, we had an emergency shipment that couldn’t wait. So, the three of you are coming with us now.” 

“Wait...” I started, “Are you guys even pirates, or...?” 

“Oh, and would you look at that!” He dodged the question. “This guy was with you as well.” 

With the nudge of his head, another person was pushed ahead within my peripheral vision, and I recognized the face instantly. 

_Ero._

Being a Skytrot, most of his features resembled those of a bird’s. His icy blues darted around as he took in the landscape, dark beak parted slightly in thought. His deep red plumage was more ruffled than usual, and there was a rope tied around his waist that pinned his wings in place. He looked quite confused, and mildly annoyed, about the whole situation. 

\------ \--------------

**Ero Dawnbreeze**

“I swear I would’ve recognized you within The Reanimator’s cortège.” The strange man in the green tailcoat addressed me. “Are you a new recruit?” 

I huffed indignantly. Recruit? She was my drinking buddy! What’s with all his questions, anyway? He doesn’t have any business nosing into our lives like that. 

We were both staring cross-eyed at each other until he took a step back. “...Well, you’re not much of a talker.” He gave an exaggerated pout. “No matter, I already have an inkling as to why you’re here. Skytrots follow whatever their hearts desire, after all, and you seem to have an eye for trouble.” He took a step towards me and I tried to step back, blocked by the person who escorted me. “I know you had accompanied Miss Paagal last night, but you didn’t seem quite as intoxicated enough to explain your actions. We had a shipment of eight boxes of fermented quailberries yesterday morning. Yesterday night, our supplied dropped to six and a half boxes, along with a full-bellied, half-dead bird sprawling itself across one of the newly empty boxes.” 

Another step forward, and we were practically touching heads. I heard the sharp whistle of a blade leaving its scabbard, and I looked down to see the tip of his sword pointing just under my ribcage. “You’ll be paying for the very dew on those berries, birdbrain. Either by coin, by labour, or your life. You hear me?” He breathed. 

The smell of the rust tickled my nostrils, and I sneezed into his face. 

He finally stepped back, wide-eyed as a chorus of sniggering started around me. “Quiet.” Though more of a hiss than a shout, the entire ship went silent. He scowled at me before drawing his blade back, pointing it to someone behind me. “Quartermaster Voy, keep an eye on him.” 

“Got it, Knautt.” 

“Now, onto the next stowaway.” 

\------ \--------------

**Holav**

“You must be mistaken,” I started, trying to make the most out of the captain’s attention. “I am no criminal or ill-doer, I’m not supposed to be here-” 

“Hey, _hey_ _,_ Who said anything about being a criminal?” I heard Miss Paagal protest. 

“You’re a funny one.” Knautt ignored her, looking all but slightly amused. “Just the night before, you were waving for us to save you from your humble oar boat in the middle of a storm, shouting for mercy at the top of your lungs. When someone finally got a hold of you, you passed out from the shock. Yet now, the moment you regain your consciousness, you want to leave.” 

“I-” Not a word of that story was true to me. For one, I was nowhere near the sea- instead in a caves of Yawaogstudying the ancient ruins inside. I remember trying something risky in order to uncover something- as foolish as that was. The next thing I knew, I had woken up to a mahogany ceiling and the sound of the roaring tides. “Where are we heading towards, exactly?” 

“Yarnpork, Anatoli.” He shrugged, and I had to double-take. 

“Anatoli? As in the Eastside Continent?” That was weeks' worth of travel from Yawaog. How long had I been asleep? 

“Where else?” 

“You’re kidding.” Paagal interjected again, and this time we turned our attention towards her. “It’s going to take forever for me to make it back to Lokesville! My entourage is going to kill me.” 

“Really? I’d be more concerned about staying alive now, now that we’ve reached this side of the sea.” He shook his head. “The currents here are easier to ride, but it’s also crawling with thieves, and they would happily trade lives for loot.” 

I felt my stomach twist into knots, and I tried to steer the conversation back to my current predicament. “Listen to me. 

I have no association with The Reanimator or her subordinate- frankly, I do not know or care to know about either of them.” A protestant “Hey!” came from Paagal’s side- “There is little to my name. My current interests lie at Yawaog, and I would be greatly thankful if you could release me at the next dock you visit.” 

“Easy, easy there, poindexter. First of all,” He stretches a hand out as if to emphasize his point, other arm locked on his scabbard, “It makes sense that you were all the way out at sea in such a tiny boat when you were looking for Yawaog. That place is cursed.” 

"I-” 

"Second,” He interrupted, “I hope you didn’t leave your manners there, chief. Never even got to know your name.” He drops his hand towards me, and I wasn’t entirely sure if he expected me to shake it with my hands bound. 

I hesitated, though I knew better than to do that. “...Holav.” 

“Took you long enough to remember. And what, Holav? Holav what? Holav of Dytika? Holav von Emsworth would suit you. Holav the Frequently Comatose? Ho-” 

I bit back a retort, reminding myself that I was being held captive. “It’s _just_ Holav, thank you.” 

“Alright then.” He finally dropped his hand, almost looking... disappointed? “Keep your secrets.” 

He took a good few steps away from the three of us, stretching his arms to the back of his head. It was a rather childish pose to take, especially one of the leader of a pirate ship. He hemmed and hawwed in thought, turning away to gaze thoughtfully into the sea. During the entire interrogation, it had slowly painted the sky in amber, about to dip into the darkened echoes of the waves. 

“So...” Paagal broke the silence after the seconds stretched painfully on, “What's the plan?” 

“Now?” 

“Y’know, with us.” 

“Oh!” He turned back and looked at us as though he only saw us there for the first time. “Well, I guess there’s nothing else of interest you people can give to me. Folks?” Our escorts raised their heads towards him, grins rising on their faces. A knowing anticipation grew around us, and another bout of fear gripped my chest like an icy claw. 

“You know what to do with them.” 

\------ \--------------

**Borealis of Silverfog**

I gulped, looking at all my crewmates holding our captives in place. 

Captives. 

I shivered slightly. It didn’t feel right to do this to them, but what we needed to do was partly under Knautt’s instructions. 

“Hey.” My best-friend Laira nudged her elbow into my waist. Unlike me, she was all too ready to carry out our orders. She swung her legs out and pushed herself off the edge of the deck, the gold in her eyes seeming to dance with glee. They were shadowed by her now furrowed brows when she saw the look on my face, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, Lisa, don’t give me that look.” 

“...We’re going to be in so much trouble.” 

“When will you learn to stop worrying so much? This’ll be fun, come on!” She dragged me by the wrist, pulling me to my feet, and I felt the gap between us close as everyone started to take up our instructed formation. My crewmates gathered around me as we framed a wall around the stowaways, unsheathing weapons and sharpening claws. We began to close in on them, one step at a time. 

The Skytrot seemed to respond first to our approach, struggling against his escort, Mirol’s grip. The row of feathers atop his head raised like the hackles of a cat, making him look twice as big and thrice as ridiculous. 

The second one was the horned Landstrider, slim tail flicking from one side to the other casually. “Ugh,” She threw her head back, as if this was more of an inconvenience to her than a threat to her life. “I’m too hungover for this.” 

With no warning, she raised her leg and stomped hard on Sorrel’s foot, making him yell out in pain and instinctively loosen his grip on her. Freeing herself, she dropped into a crouch and used the momentum to swing a round-about kick into his boots. He fell flat on his face, and she rose again to meet our eye level with a blinding grin. One of her teeth was etched in gold. 

“What are you doing?” Knautt called, bringing us back to our senses. “Get them!” 

And just like that, all hell broke loose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featured Character :
> 
>   
> 


	2. Von Boyage, Part II

**Jhakkii Paagal**

Alright. Pause the whole shebang. 

Let's get some things straight. 

As of right now, there's three things running through my head: The washed-up memories of the night before, the thrill of an oncoming battle, and this pounding headache that's probably gonna kill me before any of these guys do. 

I'm going to take each of these thoughts slow and steady, one step at a time, before I go into cataleptic shock. Let's start with what happened a moonrise ago- 

\--- 

_I had pushed away the doors to the tavern, the heat and bustle indoors quickly melting away the bite of the frost-covered winds. Icehide; where long-thread hills swooped to lace the chill of the ocean into the air, it was neither for the faint-hearted nor for the Landstriders of the northwest. I was only one of those two, however._

_"-You know what she said to me?" I remember being deep in a conversation with Ero, who spurred me on with the nod of the head. His shawl, a light teal that he normally wore as a scarf, was draped around his head like a cowl. He pulled it back to shake off the snow from his head, unleashing a mane of feathers that turned heads. I made sure to send a wave of the hand here, a wink of the eye there- As a performer, it's important keep up appearances off-stage as well._

_ "Anyways," I continued, "she said, 'You can't just feed a  Willowisp an entire bale of grass in one go and expect them to grow their wool overnight, that's not how it works,' blah-blah-blah. First of all- neither of us know anything about animal handling. The last time I talked to an animal specialist was with my cousin Hiran during our last family reunion, and  he got his license revoked a year ago. Her family makes a living off selling spices all the way down in  Sootworn Coast, and I'm pretty sure the most wildlife they get there are the annoying tumbleweed that live to tangle itself into your hair." _

_It was a chance encounter, running into Ero again, but explaining our dynamic is... kind of difficult. From one angle, he's a childhood friend, but from a different angle he might as well be a stranger. The last time we 'met' was so long ago that it wouldn't make a difference either way._

_"Anyways, we heard the Willowisp's actual owner starting to shout about his cattle being stolen, and we knew we needed to get out of there. Oh, and get this, we- ah!"_

_I had bumped into someone. Or really, someone had bumped into me. "Watch it." I hissed._

_My perpetrator and I were nearly the same height, so I wasn't expecting to make eye contact. A night-colored hood shaded chestnut skin, mask pulled over the nose. Their face framed by two dark curtains of hair that tied into the back of their head, forming an elaborate hairdo._

_What stuck out the most to me, though, were the eyes. Even under the shadow of the hood, they were an incredible pink, and held an undeniable sense of purpose. They had somewhere to be, and they needed to be there_ now. 

_"You're blocking the entrance." A muffled voice replied, cold and neutral._

_I took a long step to my side, watching them head out with a gravity in each step._

_"Sheesh." I jabbed a thumb towards the doors as they shut close. "You normally see folks here walk into bars with that much urgency, not out of them."_

_Ero simply tilted his head, and I quickly forgot the encounter as I continued my story. It was the last we saw of them._

\--- 

Until ten minutes ago. 

Even though the hood and mask were gone, I recognized Holav clear as day. I would wonder what they did that brought them here, but that was a question for another time.

Which leads to the second thought that ran through my head!

Imminent death. 

A few were quick enough to swing a sword or two at me, and I maneuvered my way through the blades until I was no longer backed against the wall of the bunkers. From this view, I could make out the rear end of a ship, the floor elevated from a quarterdeck. 

I ducked as I felt the air sliced where I was an instant ago, falling into a summersault that pulled me forwards before springing onto the shell of the bunkers. Standing on the quarterdeck, there was now nothing that blocked my sight of the ocean. 

I looked down and saw the mob gather in my direction, but my chest felt lighter. This wasn't much different from standing on a dimly lit stage, all eyes on me. As long as I kept up the show, they wouldn't go into a fit and kill my extras.

My heart was pounding against my chest, and in the heat of the moment I spread my arms and shouted, "Come get a piece of _this_!" 

Bows began to raise, and arrows were drawn from their quivers. The darts whistled past me like a sharp breeze, only one brave enough to graze my ear. 

I sucked in a breath, hoping the other two captives would realize I was playing the distraction. At this rate, I could hope to stay alive by being light on my feet. 

"I can see you're a little new to the whole 'kidnapping' thing." I taunted. I even spared a moment to look down at my fingernails, as if examining if I got any plankton on them. "Let me know when you want me back, I could even tie my hands together to make it a little easier for you." 

My taunt seemed to work, sparking their aggression into a wildfire. I waited for a few several of them to shuffle up the staircase to meet me- the bigger the unit, the slower they went. 

I only had to wait for less than a second before I found a dagger at my throat. 

"Woah!" I instinctively threw my head back, and the rest of my attacker flew over me. She was a short little thing, coveted in leather armor and a cape that draped over the outline of broad spines on her back. 

"How nice of you to volunteer." I could see the glint in her eye reflected in the metal of the dagger, icy and unforgiving. Despite myself, I yelped as she swung for me again, barely managing to dodge her whirlwind of attacks. 

I held out long enough for it to be admirable, until a pain struck into my shoulder. She used my hesitation kick into my torso, knocking the wind out of me. Her dagger was still etched into the wound, and I crumpled onto the ground. 

Looking down on me, I could see the pointed features echoing those of a lizard's, face cast in dusk's light. One of her hands were drawn back above the two of us, fitted with some kind of glove that wrapped around modified claws. The look in her eyes looked so much hungrier than anything I'd ever known. This was more than shedding blood on the battleground; she was out for my life. 

And I felt my own flash before my eyes as she struck downwards. 

They say true death is painless, but they had never mention how much lighter you feel all of a sudden. Like a weight pulled off your chest. 

They also don't mention the ear-splitting screeching. 

I opened my eyes after squeezing them shut for who-knows how long. The body of the Lizardfolk was lying further across the deck, getting back on her knees with a dangerous silence. 

Seeing as there wasn't a gaping cut in my neck, I took that to mean that I was still alive. I didn't expect to still see a pair of eyes above me, but at least they belonged to someone familiar. Talons as black as the deep curled out to reach for me. 

Letting myself stand up, I noticed that the ropes bound to Ero were missing, and that he held a shortsword in his other talon. "Smart bird." I smiled. 

\------ \--------------

**Ero Dawnbreeze**

_"What can I get for you?"_

_The tavernkeeper had a kind voice, I decided, even if he interrupted our conversation. Though the lanterns held a warm light, his pale complexion was only accentuated in its dimness._

_"Some whiskey with a side of your best red meats would be great, hon." Jhakkii answered. "Or actually, is_ _'Spool-lamb medley_ _' on the menu?"_

_He blinked. "I'm afraid I've never heard of that."_

_She shrugged. "No one so far has."_

_"And how about you, sir?"_

_"Just a glass of water for the big guy." She answered for me, pulling her legs up to rest on the desk. We had already discussed what we were going to get beforehand, and one of us needed our wits better than our alcohol in a place like Icehide._

_"Alright." Bony fingers pushed away a curtain that led to the back of the tavern, shouting out our orders at equally withered-looking workers._

_"_ _These guys have it rough out here. Look at them!" She whispered and nodded to them. "Skin literally clinging to bone. Could probably fit right in with my backup dancers." She joked._

_I expected Jhakkii to continue whatever she was saying after he left, but not a single word left her mouth since._ _She seemed to be looking somewhere outside the window, beyond the sheet of grey that poured heavy from the skies._ _I traced along the old carvings on the table until its depth reached my claw, deciding to see what came over her._ _She looked so terribly solemn from barely a few moments ago. It's been happening all day- One moment she could be chatting and laughing up a storm, and another be a downtrodden ghost of her usual self. I wondered what I could do to cheer her back up._

_So I pulled out a hip bone from my satchel and gave it to her._

_Her pensiveness was replaced by confusion very quickly. Her expression softened once it clicked, though, realizing what I meant by the old gesture._

_"_ _Pelvis for my thoughts_ _?" She pushed it back to my side of the table. "I'll pass."_

_It was the first time she had ever refused to share her thoughts with me._

_In a short while, our meals were arranged, Jhakkii paying for both. Our waiter swiped a look at the hip bone I had still kept on the table, and then hurriedly went to serve some other customers._

_It was a tricky fit, getting it back into my bag. By the time I finished tucking it in, she had stretched herself over the counter and was asking for a second refill, rolling_ _her eyes when she saw the look on my face. "S'll be finee, just let me have this. Here," she slurred, "You can have my dinner. The meat is way too rare for my taste, anyways."_

_I was a picky eater, but I also wasn't going to give up my first good meal in moons. Before I knew it, I was scarfing down chunks of slightly cold brisket, almost as quickly as her own drinks._

_It was still a long while until midnight, but the sky couldn't have been any more darker. Jhakkii had told me that her crew would come to pick her up before tomorrow, but there seemed to be no sight of them for now. The crowd in the tavern dwindled by the hour, until it was just her and a few nocturnal guests._

_The gangly man of a tavernkeeper came back to us in time, sternly telling us to pick between buying a night at their inn or leaving. I would have asked Jhakkii if she could still afford it, but she was currently occupied with drunk-sobbing into the table, cradling an empty beer flask in both hands._

\--------- 

I remember managing to coax her out of there by inviting her to chuck some molotov cocktails into the sea with me. The rest of the night was a bit blurry, especially when I caught a whiff of my favorite snack at one of the cargo holsters; Quailberries. Addictive as they were inebriating, they led me in a stupor to where I was now. On my third kidnapping this week, and on my fifth attempt from escaping approaching doom. 

Half the mob were clambering up to us, the other half going for that other stowaway under the deck. 

I got Jhakkii back up on her feet and looked back at the Lizardfolk stirring from her spot, waiting for her to tell us what we should do next. 

Jhakkii put her hands on her hips. "What should we do next?" 

I let out a caw of protest. You're the one who's supposed to have the ideas here! 

"Oy, at least help me out here! I barely even remember how we got into this mess in the first place." She replied, before taking in a breath. "Just- do you know how to steer a ship?" 

I was about to shake my head when she said, "Actually, doesn't matter. Just- Fly yourself up to the steering wheel, set a course back to Dytika, and hope we don't die along the way." She pulled the shortsword from my grasp, slagging it to the unwounded side of her body. "I'll keep on distracting them." 

I could hear the insecurity in her voice, but I steeled my resolve. She gave me a pat on the back and dived into the masses below, while I shot for the air. 

The head of the ship was on the opposite side, the winds were working against me. I beat my wings against the current, humid and warm, listening to the whistle of arrows that barely missed my form. 

There was someone guarding its post- a scrawny figure, shaky arms raised to hold a crossbow to my head. It was far from a frightening scene. I could easily pluck him off and make our way home- 

Everything turned pink. 

A sharp explosion pierced my eardrums, like the boom of thunder. Before I knew it, I was flying an extra 20 feet in the air, startled out of my trail of flight. 

I let out a cry of frustration. Explosives? They have _explosives_? 

I whipped my head in search of the source, wondering if I should strike those responsible down before more destruction ensued. The initial burst of sound had faded, leaving a deafening ring in my ears that I desperately wanted gone. The bright pink tint that covered my vision was slowly returning to normal, radiating from a certain direction. The veil of color lifted, and I could make out its instigator. 

The third stowaway. 

\------ \--------------

**_Holav_**

_My footsteps crunched into the snowy tracks, internally cursing the chill that nipped at every movement in my body. I could only guess, by the slopes my path had taken and what I remember of the map, that I was only minutes away from my destination. The weather couldn't have been more bothersome- The world a few steps ahead was erased in an expanse of white, heavy gales roaring and howling at those who had dared travel here at this time of night. I had to push through this blizzard if it costed me everything, if only for what was on the other side._

_Yawaog. The final piece to my puzzle. I was confident, no, I_ knew _that this would the end to the journey. A place of salvation to undo everything that had gone wrong in my life. To lift a curse of mine both physical and emotional._

_I shuddered with every inhale and watched as my breath was crystallized and carried off._

_Daylight was only so many hours away._

\--------- 

I was so close, yet so far. It would be bad to lose myself in the past now of all times, however. 

The lightning bolt I had just managed to bring into existence sapped away my strength, but I forced myself to stay on my two feet. The spell was powerful enough to knock out many, stagger some, and intimidate the rest. 

Casting a spell is a simple action for many, one meant to cause destruction simpler still. It wasn't typical to have to endure the shock of damage one would inflict when preparing it. Wouldn't have to feel the elements rattle through one's body before they can be used as magic. I, however, live under more... unfortunate circumstances. It is the nature of a curse, after all. 

Those who had stood just out of my range seemed to be having second thoughts, watching their crew members be electrocuted half to death. I knew my feelings well, though, and I knew I realized sympathy much later than when I realized anger. 

"Care to have another go?" My voice broke into a growl. I could theoretically send another shockwave at them right now, as powerful as the last, but it would leave me near unconscious and vulnerable to a counterattack. I could only safely cast within a few several minutes from now, and had to buy my time with empty threats. 

I took a step forward, they a step back. One of them, my former escort, pursed her lips, glancing to read her compatriot's face. With a heavy-set weapon in both hands, he hadn't torn his eyes away from me the entire time. 

"Oh, I think we shall." His grin was wicked. "There's no use trying to lie to a clairvoyant, my dear." 

I felt my body move before my mind caught up, and his rapier bored into the spot I just left. I swerved further to my right with his second strike, fighting my urge to freeze on the spot. The weight of his weapon forced him to make slow, predictable movements, and I found my evasions to work like a kind of rhythm. A rhythm that could end in bloodshed if I wasn't paying attention. 

I moved into the open, a better position than when I was backed against the wall. I couldn't keep this up forever, not long enough to recharge my next spell, and with every passing second people would start to realize that I wasn't just toying with him. 

Any plans that came to me faded as I bumped into something at the middle of the ship, instinctively looking upwards. The mast that created the flag poles shadowed overhead, blocking the view of the sun. 

That split hesitation would turn out to be my greatest mistake. 

The tip of his greatsword struck forward, right under my chin. The head was curled into a kind of hook, etching into my skin if I tried to struggle further. 

"Too easy." He smirked. "I've known plenty of people like you- one-trick ponies, the lot of them. These things are lighter than they look, you know." He shook its hilt lightly, leading to a jab at my throat. "I used my clairvoyance to calculate every move you would make in response to mine, and it was only a matter of time until I could corner you again." 

Embarrassment and bitterness washed over me. Was this how I must know my last moments? At the mercy of another, outsmarted in their own field of magic? 

"Laira, be a dear and let me borrow that sword of yours, hm?" He crooned. "I'll be sure to finish the job." 

No, I wouldn't let that happen. I was left with no other choice- I had to cast my second spell ahead of time. 

I willed another burst of lighting, feeling the electricity crackle at my fingertips. At the same time, he now held a second blade, swinging it back to land a final blow- 

"Oh, _shit._ " 

The impact never came. I squinted one eye open. He stood in the exact same position, arms frozen stiff as he noticed something to my right. The pink glow at my hands fizzled out, and I realized the sudden quiet that blanketed the battleship. Everyone's gazes were fixated at the same spot, a look of pure terror spreading across their faces like a wave. 

With all my willpower, I forced myself to turn with them. 

On the very peak of the hull, a figure stood tall. Though illuminated by the setting sun, her face was unreadable. 

Something told me I should be terrified as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featured Character :
> 
>   
> 


	3. Off The Board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the more dialogue-heavy chapter this week. prepare for the plot to come crashing in soon though :>

The Divinities may only know how long she had been standing there, biding her time in the throng of usurpers. Watching how every strike and clash moved in tandem with the curl of the waves, which darkened to the night like a blood stain to the floorboards. 

Metal soles on hardwood, the sound of her footsteps were louder than anything else. Light and balanced, She held herself as if her tread could cause the floor below to crack. The colors of her garments were desaturated and held accents in gold, like the ghost of an exalt. Silken strands of white hair trailed from under her cap, almost translucent as they were caught in the wind and rested on her equally pale shoulders. Her coat dipped downwards and its fork dragged along the ground, almost the same length as her wings. Rounded and fragile like that of a fly's, the cuticles caught beams of gold under the sunlight. 

The regality in her movements put Knautt's own to shame. Whatever these people knew her of doing, it was enough to leave them terrified beyond silence. 

Beady pupils of cinder engulfed her eyes, trained on a spot that was always just behind everyone. She had stopped moving forward, and raised both her wrinkled hands in front of her. In a careful, eternal second, she began to clap. 

\--------- 

**Borealis of Silverfog**

Oh great Corveia above, I knew we'd be in trouble. She was going to kill us all, drag us to the moons and back, and then kill us all again. 

Knautt told us he had it in under control. Laira told me what we were doing was harmless. Voilaire promised me that he wasn't going to actually kill anyone. Those had to be, well, the three least reliable people I ever knew. What was I thinking? 

Illiou was still clapping, scanning us all one by one. I felt my fur stand on edge as we briefly locked eyes, her grey pupils dull like a storm overcast. Her forehead creased as she opened her mouth, and I was ready for her to drop her composure any moment now and unleash mayhem on us. 

What I wasn't ready for, was for her to double over in a coughing fit. 

None of us really knew what to do, waiting for her to regain her voice as she continued to sputter. It would be an extremely courageous and foolish thing to approach her now, even to diffuse the situation, I thought to myself. 

Knautt was already at her feet, arms poised behind him. In the midst of the battle, he hadn't so much as raised a finger, and it showed. Amongst our scuffled clothes and barely sheathed gear, Not a seam was off in his attire. 

"Mr Knautt." She managed to keep her strife in a hoarse voice. " _What is the meaning of this?_ " 

He offered a quick bow and then a grin. "Oh, just some sparring, miss." 

"Sparring." She chuckled, a sound that shouldn't be so foreboding given any other circumstance. "Sparring? You're going to need to give me a better explanation than that." 

"What else is there to explain? My crewmates have been hungry for another fight since our last skirmish, and it's my duty as co-captain to sate them. Why should we waste our hours to Anatoli when we have an open training area and some perfectly good prisoners right here?" 

He sounded so sure of himself that for a moment I thought Illiou would be convinced as well. 

Illiou, of course, could never be swayed. 

"Is that what you think of my ship? A little playground to play swords with your new friends?" The humor in her voice was short-lived. "Oh, you have some nerve for even thinking you'll get away with that. Delmer Knautt, you listen to me. You do _not_ have power over the agenda of this ship. You do _not_ have the privilege to sacrifice time and resources in the name of these bloody _catfights_ , and you do _not pitch our recruits against STRANGERS-"_

" _How else are you expecting us to last here?_ " Knautt shouted back. "All you do is make these people slog after cargo day in and day out! If you haven't noticed, we'll be setting course to one of the most dangerous trade routes in Panimar, and I'll be damned if we don't get any training before-" 

"Does that give you any right to pull these kinds of stunts behind _my_ back? I trusted you to take care of things while I was off work, but if this is how you handle such negations-" 

"' _Negations'_ my bloody a _-"_

They continued rowing, only interrupted by the occasional cough or wheeze on Illiou's end. The crowd's eyes moved back and forth between the two like a game of racquetball. I felt incredibly out of place, like I've walked into the middle of a shouting match between a mother and her rebellious child. 

"Hey, we didn't even use our firearms on the stowaways!" 

" _YOU HAD FIREARMS?_ " 

Well, it's not like this was much different. 

\--- 

After a few minutes of accusations and yelling that lead nowhere, Illiou and Knautt both fell quiet, seemingly worn out from speech at the same time. Illiou removed the cap from her head and held it to her chest, a curt gesture whenever she would close off an announcement or finish a meeting. "We will continue this discussion in the captain's quarters." She glowered. 

Looking up, she saw the rest of us as if we had only just been there. "Well, what are you waiting for?" She snarled. "I leave the lot of you on your own for a day and you manage to get us _fifteen minutes_ behind schedule. Get back to _WORK_!" 

She didn't have to tell us twice, and in the flurry of movement I forgot I still had my butcher's knife raised above the Landstrider. I backed away from the her as her attention was still fixed on our captain, retreating into the galley where I could worry instead about my sore arms and what to prepare for tonight's meal. Even in the distance, I could see Illiou beginning to walk up to The Reanimator. 

\--------- 

**Ero Dawnbreeze**

I wasn't dead! 

Wait, I wasn't dead. Now what? 

I had dropped back down on the ship by the time the angry-looking lady finished yelling at everyone, relieved to find that nobody seemed eager to kill us right now. I searched across dozens of moving heads, but none of them were the familiar, flame-colored tuft that belonged to Jhakkii. It was like she had vanished from a few seconds ago. I frowned; should I still overthrow the ship and steer us back to Dytika? 

I stopped my search to look at the people around me. Most of them seemed to be doing normal ship-maintenance stuff- aged caskets were being arranged around carefully handled shipping boxes, some training the sails to pick up speed. Most busied themselves in cleaning, taking time to chatter between wiping masts and swabbing decks. 

I nodded to myself, knowing what I had to do now. 

I found a nearby bucket and mop as soon as I looked for one, taking hold of it just as someone reached out as well. Ignoring the confusion on their face, I settled for an open spot just under the masts, ready to pour the water out to begin my work. 

Someone placed a hand over my talon before I could start. 

It was the woman from earlier, perplexed as to what I was doing. "You're, em, too kind. I'll need you to follow me for something else, though. The name is Ero, correct? Your friends will be waiting for you by my quarters." 

\--- 

The place was a humble sight- low-roofed like most of the cabins, it had a circular raise in the middle for a table, surrounded by cushioned, mismatching chairs. An assortment of maps and scrawlings were hung across walls and strewn across the table. A single lantern lit up the entire room brilliantly, and inside I could see a oddly-shaped glow where a wax candle would normally be. 

Aside from the ship's captain and I, the only other person in the quarters was the folk who was shooting lightning at everyone from earlier. Imperial red eyes peered up at me, and recognition dawned across their face. "You're that Skytrot from Icehide." 

"Ah, so you do know each other." She quipped. "How lovely. Take a seat, Ero. Miss Paagal's wound, along with several others', is being tended to by my co-captain, but I'll take a moment to make sure they return." 

Just like that, she was gone. I sat myself on the nearest chair, taking a better look at the lantern. In the brightness I could make out a figure, darting in various directions inside the vessel. It took me some time to realize that the glass was filled with silvery webs, and that there was some kind of spider spindling the glowing threads. 

"Ero!" The doors were slammed open by Jhakkii, and I smiled up at her as she threw an arm around my back in greeting. "Look at you! Not even a scratch on that crest of yours, lucky guy." She pointed at her right shoulder, swathed in bandages. "I had a wicked cool scar on here, but Delmer already healed it." She whined. 

"It would have healed eventually. I just used magic to speed up the process." Knautt said. He walked over to the other side of the table, and Jhakkii stuck her tongue out at him while he had his back turned. Holav furrowed their eyebrows at the display. 

"Firstly," One of the captains started, her tone bringing us all to her attention, "I would like my co-captain Knautt to issue a public apology on behalf of what he just put you through." 

"Really? Alright." He shrugged. "Sorry." 

For a while, nothing happened, the rest of us expecting him to continue. "Well?" Holav asked. 

"'Well' what?" 

"I expected you would have more to say. You _did_ just try to slaughter us a few minutes ago." 

Knautt's face stretched into an awkward grimace. " _Slaughter_ is quite the strong word there. The worst we were expecting to do was knock you unconscious, but I made sure murder would be off the table." 

"Uh, hello?" Jhakkii pointed again to her bandages. "Some crazy lizard lady was going for my neck there!" 

"Who, Elise?" Knautt shook his head. "She's the only lizardfolk on our crew, and she wouldn't hurt a fly. It's not like _she_ was the one that raided our food supplies, or puked into the freights, or shot electricity at half the people on board-" 

"You shouldn't have worked under the assumption that your scapegoats wouldn't fight back, then." Holav interjected. Knautt's face reddened as he opened his mouth. 

"Enough!" The other captain said, exasperated. "This got out of hand quite fast. Everyone, sit down- We're starting from the beginning. My name is Tou Illiou, and you're currently aboard our cargo ship _The_ _Von_ _Boyage._ I usually head the ship, but because of my current... sickness, I'm off commission." As if to prove her point, her sentence was punctuated with a wet cough. "Delmer Knautt has been taking care of matters in my name, but we're currently at a disagreement." 

Knautt muttered something under his breath, and Illiou harshly cleared her throat as if in response.

"It was what lead to him pretending to play pirates with all of you without telling the rules, to cut a long story short." She scrutinized him with a look. "Even if Knautt doesn't, I'll give you my word- for a bed to sleep in, dinner for the night, and a drop-off at Yarnpork when we arrive there by sunrise. You will no longer be treated as prisoners under my watch." She interrupted herself with a sneeze. "Under Knautt's watch, that is." 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Knautt waved her off. "Do the three of you have any questions?" 

I shrugged, satisfied with having a full belly tonight. Jhakkii seemed to have spaced out again, with that glassy-eyed look I recognized from the tavern yesterday. 

"The three of us have responsibilities back in Anatoli, some more urgent than others." Holav began. "How are you going to help us get back?" 

"Beats me." Knautt said. "These two fell into our cargo before we could do anything, and you were stranded in the middle of the North sea. Find a ride back, or magic your way there, it's not my responsibility." He crossed his arms. "Anything else?" 

Holav shook their head and scoffed a bit in disbelief. They seemed to have a retort in mind, but what instead came out of their mouth was, "...Would it not be _'The Bon Voyage'_?'" 

"Rushed painting job." Knautt stood up from the captain's desk immediately. "My, I'd say that's enough questions for today. I'll be showing you the way back to your bunkers, if you'd follow me." 

\--------- 

**Jhakkii Paaga** **l**

We were herded back down into the belly of the _Von Whatevertheycalledit,_ being navigated through its maze of corridors. The adrenaline rush from the battle had died down, and with the moon overcast the only thing I wanted to do was drop into the bunkers and curl up into the stiff bedding and thin sheets. 

The fatigue didn't erase what I was worried about, however. 

I had a hand placed over my shoulder, feeling a throbbing and burning sensation eat under the freshly repaired skin. Knautt's healing magic should have removed the pain entirely, but it only got rid of the physical injury. 

I bit down on my lip. I might not be religious, but it was tempting to pick a Numen right now and pray to it. 

The dagger Elise struck me with must have been laced with a burn poison. That's what I wanted to believe, anyways, but the dots were quickly connecting into a picture I didn't like. 

The lizardfolk's attire. The way Knautt denied that she could be violent. What I saw last night. The look in her eyes as she brought her claws down. 

Elise was a Duskstar, a damned guild that was after my life. For all I know, she's put a curse on that weapon, a curse that could leave me dead by tomorrow.

What if I _am_ as good as dead? When I realized we were thousands of miles away from Dytika, a strange relief washed over me, knowing that the one thing that haunted my past could be left behind for good. But now... 

I took in a deep breath, concentrating on getting to the bunkers. Panicking now is going to help no one. 

\--- 

We managed to squeeze through the entrance, and I had forgotten how cramped the place was. "If you're looking for apologies from the rest of the crew, you won't be getting any." Knautt said. "If anything, they'll be angry at _me_ for not getting easier bait." He rolled his eyes. "Take it as a compliment that you're still alive. You guys put up a good fight. And hey," He sent me a wink, "If you ever need a sparring partner, you're always free to drop down to my quarters." 

With that, he went back through the narrow corridors. Not exactly the weirdest way I've been courted, but it's up there. 

"Well," I swivelled on my foot to look at the other two, "That guy's a dick. The audacity that they have to just lug us around and leave us stranded on a completely different continent, am I right?"

Ero sat down in his place, ducking under the low ceiling and already beginning to nod off. Holav had started to scan the place extensively, too occupied to respond to me. They had a hand over their mouth in thought. In a short while, they were by the side of their bed, rummaging through the sheets. 

"...I don't think you'll find any spare change here." I told them. "Believe me, I've been in my fair share of shitty inns. It's the only part of the place that's wiped clean." 

By the incredulous look on their face, I guessed I missed the mark. "What? No. I can't find my satchel and other inventory. I don't suppose they've taken any equipment you might have had either?" 

I took in one of many deep breaths today, looking around. I only took my purse and lute for the tavern, but I didn't check for them after everything that happened today. I bared my teeth in annoyance, ducking to check to see if there was anything under the bed. Nothing. "Fuck. Whatever. I'm too tired to worry about this." My plan of action for now is to take a nap and, if I ever wake up, go look for my stuff while everyone else is asleep. 

I'll say one thing- Getting a killer hangover, battling a horde of mariners, taking a mortal wound, and getting cursed is a sure way to get you to fall asleep before your head even hits the cushions. 

**Holav**

To a restless soul, sleep is a double-edged sword, and I have learnt to wield it in years past. 

I consider myself to be a travelling spirit, yet when the waves crash into the supports, demanding the attention of any listeners, I remember that I am not used to resting so close to the open waters. 

It doesn't matter what part of nature surrounds me. I could never fall asleep to lullabies, and the world never stops singing. 

Which was why, instead of being curled in scuffed mattresses and choking on saltine air, I was walking back outside, homesick for the stars. 

There was a liveliness to the ship which I hadn't noticed in daylight, perhaps shrouded initially by the members' bloodlust. The flush of the lamps melted like honey into the floorboards, cool winds teasing through fringes of hair and knots of fur. Chirrups and whispers were exchanged between smiling faces, glowing as the ends of their shifts neared and the prospect of a hearty meal arrived. 

It reminded me of what home used to be. 

I found myself taken by the bulwarks that edged the ship, pulling myself away from my stupor. No lanterns were lit on this side of the hull, and the winds pushed here more brazenly. The ocean was an abyss, frothing at the edges of the keel as if ready to swallow everything beneath me whole. The thought of it made goosebumps crawl along my arms, and I wanted to blame it on the chill in the air. 

"Ah, I was hoping I could meet you separately." 

I raised my head to meet Tou Illiou. The only thing I could make out in the darkness was her piercing gaze, but her sickly voice was recognizable enough. 

I straightened myself, though I was far from reaching her height, choosing not to respond immediately. "You should come into the galley for a meal." She rasped. "Quailberry pudding is a delicacy out at sea." 

"I'm not hungry, thank you." 

"Hmm." She nodded, continuing. "Knautt had filled me in as to everything that had happened earlier. It was your bit of magic that had woken me up. A mighty impressive thunderbolt hex, from the sounds of it. Without the use of a wand or staff, either." 

I nodded. "A little cheat in transmutation magic. Even with the right mindset and skill, it's still a tricky spell to master." 

"I see." She sounded indifferent. "I'm not personally interested in the intricacies of spellwork, but my co-captain knows talent when he sees it." 

"...Well, are you planning something to do with me?" I asked, betrayed by my curiosity. 

"Perceptive." I could hear the smile in her voice. "I can tell you that you're not in any immediate danger, but I can't say it's not life-threatening. My higher-ups have been searching for any mages magically gifted enough to fill a position in their council." 

"This council being?" 

"The Fourth Ones." 

I frowned. "I've never heard of them." 

"You must be new to Anatoli, then." She sounded wry. "They work for Bahvlej, one of the most powerful magic illusionists in Panimar. Word has it that he plans on becoming a Numen." 

I couldn't stop a sneer from playing at my lips. "A Numen of illusion? That's a field of magic absolutely useless. He's out of his mind." 

The jabbering that had gone on in the background caught my attention as someone yelled something. A flood of people poured out of the exit of the galley, some pointing in our direction towards the sky. 

"Ah, we must be nearing the Flip." Illiou said. 

"The flip?" 

I was again distracted as the yelling behind us raised into an uproar. I instinctively set my stance, prepared for something to attack the ship, until something even more alarming happened. 

The horizon began to move. 

More than move, it began to tilt upwards, the edges of the sea being raised with it. A countless expanse of stars were pushed away as the skyline raced upwards, faster and faster, and the ocean was upon us like a great black sheet. 

My blood ran cold, waiting for the tides to catch onto gravity and crash downwards. Turning back, I could see the skies falling, an inverse to balance the rise of the ocean. The ship felt locked in place during the entire tilt, the stars slipping underneath us. The horizon line returned to its original position, yet water and sky had taken each other's places. 

The entire world had inverted before my eyes. 

The cheers and hollers on board were deafening, but I was reminded that there was someone next to me when Illiou sniffled. "There you have it. The Flip." 

"I..." 

"Speak of the devil, too. This was one of Bahvlej's earliest works in terraforming. If you see here, nothing has actually changed." She dropped something into the constellations below, and the night sky rippled from its touch. "We're still very much on the North sea. Things should look normal as we head towards Yarnpork." 

Words couldn't describe the awe and terror instilled within me, and she chuckled at it. "I know. It's no less prettier a sight after the first time, either." 

She took her cap from her head and rested it on her chest. "This is only a fragment of what he's capable of. He's well-known by many of Anatoli's rulers as well. If not for his spellwork, it's still good to have his name under your belt for the influence. Especially if you're looking for anything magic-related." 

She looked at me from the corner of her eye. 

"Or someplace." 

I stiffened. Knautt must have told her about my plans for Yawaog, and though the thought of that was frustrating, my interest had been stoked like a hearth fire. In the darkness, I saw long fingers reach out as she offered a hand to shake. 

"So? Will you make a deal?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realize that in this medieval fantasy setting with talking lizards and literal magic, ive implied that french is still an existing language. make of that what you will~
> 
> Featured Character :


	4. The Golden Hour

**Borealis of Silverfog**

The cheers of my crew members bounced against the walls, nestling into the depths of the hull where I was to stay for the night. I sighed and rested my chin on my paws. The only interesting sight from here to Anatoli would be the Flip, where I had plans to stay up and watch it with Laira. She was probably going to talk my ears off about it once my shift is over, but I wanted to see it with my own eyes! But _no_ , I had to stay put and guard some eight thousand year old artifact that was magically powerful enough to manipulate time and space. 

Ugh, Mondays. 

What was the point of safeguarding this place, anyways? It was off-limits to everyone except the captains and the three of us. The only way to get through here was from a hidden trapdoor behind the kitchens, and most people would be too hungry to notice anything other than the food. Plus, there was not much of value here aside from the artifact. Just some bags of flour and spices that overwhelmed my sense of smell, making me pause occasionally to itch my nose. 

I started walking circles around the room, keeping my eyes locked at the intricately-carved pedestal at the very center. Particularly, what rested itself on top. 

To the inexperienced eye, it would just seem like an hourglass the length of an arm. Some kind of dark metal curled around its figure like vines twined around a support. The sand that was kept inside was too viscous and too bright an orange to be sand, and I knew that if the lanterns were blown out it would glow ever so faintly. 

I didn't know what else to call it, though. 

I couldn't tell you what was exactly _inside_ the thing, really. Captain Illiou entrusted only the most loyal of her crew with knowing about and protecting it, and Corveia knew I would uphold that status for anything. From the few rumors I've heard over the years, this was most likely the Oracle's Glass, one of the most powerful magic objects in Panimar's history. How it landed up on an everyday cargo ship was beyond me, and even the other guards here, Elise and Voilaire, were scratching their heads at it. 

I paused in my musings, hearing the ceiling groan. 

Well, it always did. When the hull rocked, or when the other cooks were busying themselves, or for any reason, really. It _was_ louder than usual, but it shouldn't have caught my attention as quickly as it did. 

The muffled footsteps and faint rustling was distracting, though, and from the sounds of it only came from one person. 

I tried to figure out what they were trying to do by following the direction of their steps. Mealtime would be over at this point, plus everyone would either be asleep or awing at the Flip outside. Maybe one of the cooks wanted to clean things up early. Voilaire would have locked the trapdoor anyways, right? 

Calm down, Borealis. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing ever happens. 

The ceiling creaked this time, like a great big window swung open, and before I could react a mass of red feathers dropped in front of me. 

The pile started to move. Oh wait, that was a person. Oh stars. Oh no. 

The _person_ eventually turned himself onto the side, icy blue eyes looking up at me. I could imagine that my stare was as blank as his. 

Oh, right, guarding. I had a spear in my hands and I felt myself train it on him, but he just looked at it and slowly pointed to himself, as if asking ' _Is this for me?'_. 

"Is-" I growled. Was I not intimidating enough for him? "What are _you_ doing here, Skytrot?" 

He shirked his head into his shoulders, giving me a confused and slightly doleful look. Something about the way he held himself made me less willing to hurt him. Did he really not know what he was doing here? 

"Borealis?" Someone called from behind me, and I jumped again. I didn't know what came over me, but I knew that the other people guarding this place would be much less merciful. We were told to attack anybody who can find their way in here, friend or foe. 

I motioned for him to hide behind the flour bags, and he seemed to understand that better. In time the shuffling of the guards-people's footsteps stopped and a couple of familiar faces turned the corner. Risking a look behind me, I saw the tip of his wings just before it was huddled well behind the tallest stacks at the back. 

"I thought I heard something fall." Voilaire managed to pant out. Elise's steps were much more levelled, her brows creased in concern. 

"Oh, that was nothing! I, uh, just saw a lurkrat." 

"You saw a lurkrat." He deadpanned. 

"It was a big one." I said lamely, pulling my spear back. "I tried reaching for it, but I tripped." 

Voilaire blinked at me and shrugged, but Elise now seemed even more worried. "You do not let that rat escape." She said it like a request, taking another step inside. "Shape-shifting fiends can hide in any corner... and even if it is a lurkrat of the normal flavor, this is no safe place for it." 

I would have agreed immediately and asked them to leave, if Elise hadn't ducked between my legs and started to scour the room. 

Voilaire snorted. "You can do the searching for the both of us, Eli." He turned and left to his original position, muttering something about pest control getting in the way of his nap. 

That's one less person to worry about, at least. Elise still didn't seem to have stumbled upon the third person in the room, but she was also known to be one of our best trackers, so it wouldn't be long until she did. 

I had to do something, and quickly. 

I took in a deep breath and willed myself to create a spell. The entire room was flooded with the Oracle's Glass's miasma, so it wasn't hard to use it from a distance. With a muffled snap of my fingers, I brought a lurkrat in front of my own eyes. 

Well, it wasn't exactly the real thing. I just made the illusion of one. Thanks to the Oracle's Glass's potential , it seemed _very_ lifelike, even to me. I didn't have to carry out any commands, it simply got up on its hind feet to sniff at me, taking in its first and last breaths of existence before it was covered by a blur of green. 

"Ah-ha!" Elise had dived to the ground and caught it between her claws. It squirmed in her grasp, and I clapped my paws in front of me in feigned delight. "Good catch!" 

"I will release the little one by the streets of Yarnpork during dawn." She said resolutely. Landspeak wasn't her native language, and her accent made it sound all the more serious. To anyone else, the rat wouldn't have been as heavy or as sizeable, but it was nearly two-thirds her height as she dangled it in front of her like a pet. The entire thing was weirdly adorable. 

"Great idea." I pushed along the conversation as quickly as possible. "Well, I think it's best we get back to our posts, what do ya say?" 

Elise took too long to respond. "Borealis?" 

"Yes?" 

She teetered towards the exit for a few seconds before responding. "You were right. This rat is very big." 

With that she left, heaving it alongside her, and I waited forever before sucking in a breath of relief. I wrapped my tail in front of me and soothed the places where my fur had spiked up in nervousness. It was an old tell of mine when I lied, but fortunately she hadn't noticed it. 

I pushed away the stacks of flour to find the Skytrot. His face was engulfed in white, having torn open one of the bags whilst gorging himself like a famished animal. 

"What are you-?" I hissed. "Somebody is going to notice our flour is missing!" I grasped him under his shoulder feathers and tried to pull him away. "Okay, listen to me." I shook him with every sentence to get the point across. 

"We've been ordered to attack and even kill anyone on sight in this place if necessary. We were just going easy on you earlier this morning, so don't cross me. You were _never_ here, and you never saw _anything._ " 

He hiccupped a gust of white powder into my face and nodded firmly. I let out a sigh of relief. 

"Uh...My name is Borealis." Would it be wrong swapping courtesies with someone who you're supposed to be killing? "What's yours?" 

\--------- 

**Jhakkii Paagal**

Something hard knocked against my head, and I woke up with something between a welp and a swear. 

The ship felt shakier than usual somehow, like it was being carried by a particularly strong tide. The turbulence must have been what rocked the ceiling into my forehead, I guess. 

I rubbed the sore spot between my horns for a moment before my hand drifted over to my bandages. 

It still ached a bit, but so did my entire body, which was either from the 'fight' or the poor carpentry. The burning sensation from before was much more faint, and I was pretty sure I wasn't dead yet, so that was a plus. I couldn't help but feel worried, a fretful unease gnawing at me like a hunger. 

My stomach growled, and I realized that I could just be hungry, too. 

Holav was the only other one resting in the bunkers. I frowned, wondering where Ero had gone off to at this time. What _was_ the time, anyways? That would be another good reason to head outside. 

I smoothed back my hair and got up, making sure to keep the weight on my good shoulder. 

On the way there, I thought of a course of action to get my stuff back, but I was occupied with remembering how to navigate this place and my hunger pangs. Where would they even keep it? It wasn't in this cargo hold, or this other cargo hold, or... no, not a lavatory. Maybe it was behind _this..._ cargo hold... where was the main corridor, again? 

Well, the first step to finding a path out was to admit to yourself that you were lost. Was every other room in here a cargo hold? A whirr of white noise worked behind the walls of one of the rooms for a change, and I nosed myself in to find... another cargo hold. There was definitely some machinery at work, though, the purr of the engines reverberating against my skull. It made it even harder to think. 

"They should really label these doors." I muttered out loud, kicking away a lump of debris on the floor while I ambled in. 

"Ditto." 

Ah, shit, I've finally lost it. You get thrown on the other side of the world, miss your reunion tour, get chased down by a mob of pirate wannabes, get stabbed by an assassin, and you crack under all the pressure. Now the walls have started to talk back to me. 

A circular barrier on the floor that I assumed to be a weird porthole swung open, and a face popped out from beneath. 

Bronze-rimmed goggles rested on a long face, ivory dreads of hair tied back into a ponytail. She lifted them over to get a better look at me, the eyelids underneath creased in an invisible smile. Her pupils were a cavort in mirth and golden, and I could make out a hint of freckles on her dark complexion. 

" _Heyy_ , hi, I'm Laira. I was watching you stroll by all of our supplies, and you weren't stealing anything, so I thought you might be lost. Are you lost?" She spoke faster than I could process her words, and before that she went on. 

"Oh, yeah, you're The Reanimator!" She pulled herself forwards, standing a few inches shorter than me. She wore a leathery, full body suit from the neck-down, an assortment of gadgets and tools buckled at the waist. "I have a friend wayback in Silverfog, _huge_ fan of your show style. Mind if I get an autograph for him?" She brought a notebook from out of nowhere. "And of _course_ you're lost, duh,silly me." She tapped the side of her head and rolled her eyes. 

"Don't worry, we all went through it. This place is a puzzle to work out the first time, but I think that's what's fun about it. I'll show you the way out of here. Don't forget the autograph thing, though. You agreed to that, right?" 

I would normally strike a pose and flash my signature grin whenever a would-be fan greeted me, but she had already grabbed my hand and was starting to lead the way out. I wouldn't complain about having a pretty face for company, though. 

"Well, how could I refuse?" 

\--- 

Aside from Laira and I, there were a few other people who watched us pass, none of their faces painted in familiarity, even from the battle. My wound suddenly acted up again, like someone pushing a hot iron against it, and I hid a groan behind gritted teeth. 

Somewhere during our one-sided conversation, I managed to pepper in the fact that I hadn't eaten yet, and she practically shot me across the exit door with a gasp and a string of apologies. 

"Dinner was over _forever_ ago, but I can get you some of the leftovers!" She reassured me. 

"That would be grea- THAT'S A WHALE IN THE FUCKING SKY!" 

"Oh, yeah, don't worry about that. I'll fill you in once we get you something to eat." 

\--- 

"Honestly, this feels weird." 

"Yeah?" She pulled out some baskets and set them on the counter. 

"I mean-" I waved outside, sitting against the doorframe. The lanterns on this ship were brighter than what I was used to, so I turned my head away to where the sky would normally be. "I just woke up this morning miles away from where I should be, got jumped by the lot of ya, and the Divinities know how I'll make my way back at a reasonable time. Also, Flip or not, that's still a whale hanging from an ocean that's hanging from nothing, and I do _not_ like that." I jabbed my thumb. 

She made a sympathetic noise. "Well, Delmer was kind of ticked off. You guys _did_ try to smoke the place, and even then ruined or ate away most of our supplies that were supposed to be shipped here. He thought the fight would be a way of calling things even." 

"It's still not fair play." 

Laira didn't reply to that. With the chimes of moving cutlery she handed me some kind of pale gelatin, wobbling at the movements. 

"What do you think? I'm surprised we still had any Quailberry pudding left." 

I smacked my lips, putting the spoon down. "A little salty for my taste." 

"No way, the salt is best part of the dessert!" 

"Somehow, _that_ has to be the worst thing someone has ever said to me today." 

Laira covered her mouth in a barely contained giggle, and before I could take another bite, someone tapped me on the shoulder. 

"I believe you forgot these." Delmer Knautt said, dangling my lute in front of my nose. It was followed by a miscellany of other goods that didn't belong to me, all piling up on my lap. 

Well, that's one problem off the checklist. 

"'Forgot'? Is that what we're calling daylight theft? I woke up this morning without any of my equipment on me. Also," I poked at an unstringed crossbow, "half these things aren't even mine." 

"They're the other two's, then. And hey, the only reason you're getting these back is under Illiou's instructions." He waved his hands and started strolling away. "I'm not sure why you're out when your shift is over, Laira, but if you still have the energy you can help with the docking team this morning." 

"Sure thing, Cap'n." She gave a thumbs up, and with that he left for his silhouette to merge into the night. 

"Some leader he is." I mumbled once I was sure he was out of earshot. 

Laira shook her head. "What? He's the _best_ captain I've ever had. I mean, Illiou is the only other captain I know and it's not hard to be more likeable than her, so, fair-" I snorted, "-and hey, _you're_ the one who messed with our supplies. Honestly, the entire sparring incident happened because Delmer wanted to get back at Illiou." 

I looked down and started to separate the rest of the objects, recognizing some of Ero's possessions. The remainder was a banded satchel with some potion ingredients inside, along with an unreasonable number of books. Must be Holav's, I guess. 

"Get back at her for what?" 

"Oh, it's just their thing." Laira explained. "Captain Illiou owns the ship, so she's technically supposed to run everything around here, but that doesn't stop him from trying anyways. A voice for the people, and all that." 

I had one last set of items left to sort, three matching pouches with the same maroon cloth. I mindlessly pushed it over to Holav's side of things before I made out my name scrawled in ink on one of them. Bringing them back, I realized that each of the pouches was dedicated to Ero, Holav and I respectively. 

"The three of you have matching purses? That's cute." Laira commented. 

"Yeah, no, this isn't min... Woah." I unwound the knot that tied my pouch, a grin rising to my face as a plethora of gold coins glinted under the moonlight. 

\--------- 

**Borealis of Silverfog**

I made sure to get a clean view of the corridors, thankful to find them barren. I gingerly pushed away the lid, making sure the hinges wouldn't create any noise. I heaved myself upwards and finally rested on the floorboards, where I could see one end leading to the bunkers. 

Motioning for Ero to follow after me, he managed to scramble out with relative ease. 

"Laira and I used these tunnels all the time." I explained, chuckling. "Most people don't really stay long enough to find them out, let alone figure out how to get anywhere with them, so it's just something between the two of us." 

Ero's face twisted, and I realized he was smiling. 

"Well, I should probably get back before anyone gets on my tail. Remember, nothing suspicious." I climbed back in from where I came. "And-" 

"What?" I whipped my head to the side, a third person looking at us from the bunkers. I froze in place for what felt like forever before my senses returned to me. 

"Okayitwasnicemeetingyougoodbye!" I ducked my head inside and decided to pretend like nothing ever happened. 

Through the tunnels was a porthole that was colored in cerulean behind the glass, hints of white emerging from where the surface would be. With the lack of starlight, I assumed that the Flip has come to an end. Dawn would be upon us, and so would Yarnpork's harbors. 

I took careful time returning to my post, but no one seemed to have noticed my absence. I could see my reflection in the Oracle's Glass, being sure to smooth down my clothes. My heart refused to stop racing, fiddling with the penchant taut around my neck. Corveia help me, did I do the right thing? 

"Hey, Borealis?" Voilaire called as he turned the corner, and my heart leaped to my windpipe. He caught me. He caught me sneaking Ero out and already told the captains about it and I'm going to be chucked off-board and- 

"Have you Elise anywhere?" 

Uhm. "I thought she went back to guard with you?" 

"She _did_ , but I..." He gave a sheepish grin. "Well, it was a long day so I sort of... took a nap, and now she's gone. Don't tell anyone, though." 

Oh, we all can keep secrets, Voilaire. 

The trapdoor swung open for the second time tonight (early morning?), Captain Knautt looking down at us. 

"You two, ready the ship to dock at Yarnpork. Elise can stay back to guard the Oracle's Glass. Your shifts end after that, so do whatever." 

With a glance, Voilaire and I swapped a thousand words and a thousand more pleas, and nodded. We could worry about Elise later. She rarely gets into trouble anyways, so what's the harm? 

\------ 

**????**

The coastline of Yarnpork was bustling with makeshift travelling hubs and wide-eyed tourists, the great limbs of the _Von Boyage_ casting a murk over its shores. Tou Illiou guided them to dock with rigid movements, squinting under the glare of high noon. While her buccaneers busied themselves in grappling the ropes and steering them to rest, the three stowaways waited by the quarterdeck to settle on land once more. 

"Thanks for the ride, boss." Jhakki spoke up first, arms rested behind her head. "And for our stuff, too. Figured it was the least you could do for us." 

"Hmm, you're welcome. I never did give you anything, though. Don't remember ordering anyone to, either." 

Illiou turned to look at them, a knowing smile starting to grow. "Come to think of it, Knautt was insistent that I was the one who organized the ship docking, uncharacteristically so. Something about 'never wanting to see the faces of those fare-dodgers again'." 

Holav nodded along to the exchange, though with eyes distant. Their mind was carried elsewhere, hundreds of miles away. 

Illiou heckled a cough and fell back into her role. "Easy does it." She called, the bowsprit finally crossing over. 

It was no smooth transition, the front of the ship eating into the coarse sands, but the deed was done. The morning crew all fell back like a collective sigh of relief, some diving to the holds to carry off the cargo. 

A few stopped at the sight of the three, though instead of aggression they seemed otherwise cautious or indifferent. 

"I wish it was within my powers to send you back safely, but we'll be staying put here for the rest of the summer." Illiou brought her hat on her chest and gave a curt bow. "We might have started on a shaky foot, but I hope the next time we cross paths again is on a lighter note. These folks won't try to make practice targets out of you again, I've made sure of it." 

"Bon Voyage." 

Time seemed to skip over as the three climbed off-board, soles scalded under the hot lands. 

"Eastside Continent, eh?" Jhakkii rubbed at her shoulder, looking on. "Guess we'll have to wait until a return ship comes along. Or if any of you secretly have any teleportation powers you can reveal, now would be a great time." 

Ero coughed, a puff of flour carried away by the gusts before anyone could notice it. 

"If the both of you are looking to return home, I did have something in mind." Holav said. 

\--- 

With stronger daylight came darker shadows, cradling I in its balmy shade. Unfurling my claws, I released the lurkrat from my hold and onto the streets of Yarnpork. Such creatures are beings free of morals, of responsibilities. They do not bother themselves in toying with the balance between life and death, nor fill their egos with foolish thoughts of playing god. 

If only their kind could be as respectful with the gift of sentience. 

Ears perked, I listened in to the three vagabonds, cleaning the blood off my dagger. It will not be the last time I would have to draw it, either. 

Judgement day was upon them, the Duskstars were measuring their souls, and I prayed- prayed for each and every one of their lives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> i will be taking a brief hiatus from the story, and as such there's not going to be a new chapter next sunday. this fic has grown into something a lot bigger than what i had initially thought, and i want to flesh out the narrative structure and rewrite some previous scenes.
> 
> i would greatly appreciate some feedback if you could answer this form! there's only 4 MCQs to answer, and will help me get a better understanding of my work : https://forms.gle/weL19KFcZk9GQ1Cs5
> 
> take care :)


	5. Passing Letters

Yarnpork was a loud and boastful port village that tattered and bustled at the seams, populated by peddler and passerby alike. A tan coast flirted the pale crests of seafoam, the dark masts of a dozen docks rooted into its sands. A stiff ocean breeze pressed against the sails of caravels and old warships that retired near its ports, smaller but more plentiful cargo-boats flocking towards the harbour still. Held in weary arms were carts and shipments, finding their way to solid land from a foreign continent. 

A scarce few meters ahead would be the path-walk, a mosaic of cobblestone that did little to save rubber soles and bare feet from the scalding heat of midday. Many could find refuge under the bright tarpaulin roofs of Yarnpork's marketplace, a hodgepodge of fruit vendors and green-eyed merchants, of fortune-tellers and trinket collectors and silken fabrics and street-side performancers. People talked quick and talked quicker with their coin, a smear of dialects and languages as far as from the other side of Panimar. More than wandering shoppers, there seemed to be swarms that crowded each booth, chittering amongst themselves for a few minutes and then moving on, leaving a significantly emptier-looking stall in its wake like fruit flies to fallen mangoes. 

Walking over what seemed to be a salesperson's vacant counter, the three followed along Yarnpork's crossroads, deeper into the village center. 

\--------- 

**Jhakkii Paagal**

I tried my best to avoid making eye contact with a particularly enthusiastic paperboy, deflecting my attention onto Holav. "So, you know a way back, wise guy? Got some more of that magic up your sleeve?" 

"Well-" 

My hand shot up to cover their mouth. "Wait, wait, let me guess first. A portal. No- a rune circle that can teleport us all back in one go, or even _better_ \- You're going to summon a giant storm spirit that's big enough to carry all three of us, scoop us away over the North Sea, and just like that-" I snapped my fingers to make a point, "-bam! Home." 

Ero, who was busy gawking at the bright banners and alluring decor of the countertops, flipped his head back at the word 'storm spirit', excitedly shooting glances between the two of us. Holav fixed me with a blank stare. 

"No." 

Ero visibly deflated, and I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. Hell, they just shot _lightning_ out of their damn hands a few hours ago, they probably had some ideas just as good as mine in mind. 

"There's nothing I can do in my own power that can bring us back." 

I sulked. Way to set up everybody's expectations like that, buster. 

"However," They continued, "there _is_ someone that I can get in touch with for this, ah, predicament." 

Okay. Alright, we can salvage this. "And your mystery man?" 

"Well, does the name Bahvlej ring a bell?" 

"No?" From the corners of my eyes I could see heads starting to turn towards us, filling the short gaps between their chattering with hushed whispers. I would have just stayed where I was and waited to see wherever this was going, were it not for Holav clearing their throat loudly at my side. They gestured to keep our heads low and follow after them, pushing through a small nook that snaked into a deserted walkway. 

"I'll elaborate further once we find a refuge with more privacy. For now, I have a few questions of my own that I wanted to ask to you and your companion." 

"Sounds good to me. I normally just answer for the both of us, though. Whatcha think, big guy?" I looked up at him, having to squint under the harsh sunlight. He was eyeing the stalls we had just parted from with a wistful air, talons fiddling with decisiveness. I patted him on the back, bringing his attention back to me. 

"Ero. Five minutes. Just you and the world. Get out there and buy your heart out." 

One moment he was there, and another he flew away from under my fingers, like a torpedo of red set free onto a town square. I relished the few seconds of mayhem I saw before looking back at Holav. 

"Just so you know, I do _not_ take constructive criticism." 

"For what?" They asked, to which I shrugged. 

"Just in general." 

"...Noted. So, Miss Paagal, how long had you been on that ship?" 

"I don't know, a day and a half? I was mostly shit-faced for the better part of that time." I leaned against one of the walls that flanked the walkway, my knees scraping the other side. 

"You mentioned that you had a live performance yesterday. Was being inebriated part of the routine, or...?" 

"Pfft, no, I was just having a fun night out with feather-ball over there." I jabbed a thumb. I'm pretty sure I heard screaming from his direction. "Well, I was _trying_ to have fun, anyways. Nothing to rain on your parade like a... Actually, nevermind. What's your point?" 

"Because something here isn't adding up. We were all at Icehide Harbor two days ago, in the continent of Dytika, yes? And we should have been on the ship at some point between there to Yarnpork. Which is on an entirely different continent. Between there to here, that's a trip that should last three _weeks_." 

"Mhm. Wait, what?" 

"Three weeks without magical assistance, that is. You would still only shorten the time by a dozen days at best, taking into account the stress it would cause on the original vessel and its passengers. Plus the potential shockwaves that could ripple into the waves and consequently create a massive seastorm..." They were pacing back and forth, starting to count words off on their fingertips. "That does also depend on the school of magic they used... evocation techniques, safeguard spells, source potency..." 

Their muttering grew incoherent as the words they used became more and more alien to me. I would have given anything in that moment to bring Ero back, if only to exchange a clueless look with. I snapped my fingers right under Holav's nose, startling them. "We get it, you're a massive nerd. Now, do you know anything about getting us back or not?" 

"Are you not curious about the nature of your own circumstances? The only way we could have made it here is if The _Von Boyage_ was somehow moving at the speed of _sound,_ yet there were no signs that it was moving any faster than usual. Something powerful was fueling that ship, I knew I sensed it while we were still on board. There's no reason to _not_ stay on the ship until-" 

"No." I spoke before I realized I did. A flash of reptilian scales, ruthless stare, and the glean of a dagger flashed across my vision. "We're done with that place. What's your whole deal, anyways?" I tried switching the topic. "You were in some dingy in the middle of sea, and- no offence- you don't seem like the kind of person who gets lost that easily." 

"That's the thing, I... do have an inkling as to how I came there in the first place, but it's still all quite vague. Have you heard of the Caves of Yawaog?" 

"The what-now?" 

They sighed. "It's said to have a high concentration of chaos magic. I visited its site for... research purposes... but since tinkering with chaos magic tends to have rather unpredictable results, it wouldn't be hard to assume that I had somehow been teleported to the North Sea in my attempts. What I can't explain, though, is that I had _willingly_ shouted for help when I arrived there, and was apparently fully functioning when they boarded me to ship." 

"Mind-control, then." I said simply. 

They shook their head. "I would have been outside Di- Pardon, _Yawaog's_ range of influence at that point." 

My shoulder nagged at me again, and I was reminded of why I was looking for a quick ticket back to Dytika so badly. Whatever this curse does to me, I'll be damned if I let myself be killed in a foreign land I'd never stepped foot on, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. 

"Fine, nevermind. Back to that Blah-veg dude you were talking about. How quickly can he take us back to Icehide?" 

They glanced around our surroundings as if to check for eavesdroppers, as if anyone else managed to get into the same tight spot we did. 

"As quickly as tomorrow." They said smugly, leaning in to reveal the tip of an envelope from under their cloak. "I'll just need to find a messenger to send this letter to him. If our interests align in _just_ the right manner, he'll send me back to Dytika within an instant." 

"Damn, that good?" 

"There's a reason his skill for magic has garnered much reputation in Anatoli, and of course, with _my_ skill set, it's quite simple to land your hands on a contact with him." 

"Alright, enough with the gloating, wise guy. What about me and Ero, then?" 

They faltered. "Well, I'll have to see if he takes accompaniments. For now, let's worry about finding a good messaging service and a place to rest for the night." 

I could see Ero shambling back to us, a sagging veal bag in hand and a satisfied grin on his face. "Had a good splurge?" I asked him. "What'd ya get?" 

Ero unwound the sack, revealing an assortment of unblemished, pristine animal bones. 

I cackled, giving him another pat on the back. "Now _that's_ what I like to see! You wanna catch him up on what we just talked about, wise guy?" 

No amount of gold in the world could amount to the look on Holav's face. 

\--------- 

**Borealis of Silverfog**

"Hey. Hey. Hey." I felt something poke at my side with every syllable, rudely lifting me up from my slumber. "Hey. Hey-y. Li-sa!" 

I groaned and slumped over, weakly rubbing at my sore eyes. There was only one crewmate that called me by that name. "I jus' fell asleep, Laira." 

"No you haven't, look at the time!" She pointed to a porthole fitted to our cabins, where I could see the sun falling behind lilac clouds, painting the sky in fire. I remember falling asleep just before the afternoon had arrived. "Seven hours and twenty four minutes." She said like it would help, pushing a makeshift pocket watch in front of my nose. 

I whined something, stuffing my head into the cushioning. " _Sleep._ " 

From under the covers, my arm was dragged out by calloused hands. "You made a promise," Laira prompted, "and if I have to wait in here a _second_ longer, I'm going todisassemble your bed and turn it into a trebuchet to wake you up with." 

"You know no mercy." I teased, propping myself up on the floor by the time she pulled half of my body off the edge. "Are you finally going to show me what you've been doing with the tunnels?" 

"Oh, you'll see." She giggled, wringing a set of keys around her fingers that she kept on her person at all times. She hopped up onto the mattress of our bed, looking up at the painting of Illiou that hung above . She wiped away a layer of dust on the frame before fitting the key in a minute hole at its corner, twisting it with experienced ease. She placed her hand just behind the picture and coaxed forward, letting it unhinge like a door. A satisfying _click_ came with the movement, revealing a winding, circular corridor just big enough for a landstrider like the two of us to crawl into. She pulled herself in feet-first, waving at me to come inside. 

I passed a glance at the porthole to see if anyone was looking at us, before heading into the tunnels with Laira. 

\--- 

"So, what are your thoughts?" 

"We haven't even reached there yet." 

"Touché." As we continued, the tunnels forked into three different mouths, where we took the one that would bring us somewhere near the front of the ship. I already knew every route and corner by heart, every musky scent that belonged of the vessel's underbelly, the hollow area punctured by supporting boughs. Weaving through the spaces had become second nature to the both of us. 

It was hard for me to remember a time when the _Von Boyage_ felt unfamiliar to me. We were barely teenagers when Illiou took us under her wing, letting us serve with the rest of our crew in return for their food and community. It was hard at first, being out at sea for so long. Our old life back in Silverfog was of riverside fishing and foraging fruits, the harvest goddess Corveia looking over us as we filled our bellies with our own hard work. I knew she watched over us, even now. 

Many joked that the chill of our hometown froze us together, which was why Laira and I were practically joined at the hip. But after all these years, at the end of each day, all we really had _was_ each other. 

We turned a corner and faced an especially lengthy corridor, a masking cloth draped as a curtain blocking sight of the other end. Laira had placed them there, along with marking a 'KEEP OUT!' sign marked across the walls. She told me she wanted to have some extra secrecy while she was working on... well, whatever she was working on. 

She sat up on her knees, neck bent so she didn't hit her head on the ceiling. "Drumroll, please." She requested. 

I rolled my eyes, tapping a beat on the drywood floors. Right as the crescendo hit, she unveiled the curtains with a "Presto!" 

Where what was once a dead end, was... still a dead end. 

"D'you like it?" 

I pulled a face. "I don't see anything, Laira." 

"Because you haven't looked inside, duh. Follow me." She shuffled a few steps forward before standing up to her full height, the upper half of her body disappearing past the ceiling. It was there I realized she had carved a gap at the roofside, pulling her legs up to reach a second level above us. 

I tailed a couple of heartbeats behind her, sliding my head into the hole. We were in an empty space that resembled the inside of a cabinet more than an actual room, though it was tall enough to leave a few inches between the top of my head and the ceiling. 

Aside from the smell of sawdust and Laira leaning on the farther side, there wasn't anything else worth noticing. 

"I accidentally made a dent in the tunnels and found this teensy little nook behind it." She explained. "I think it was meant to be a secret treasury, but it ended up working _too_ well, so nobody else ever found it. Oh, and you should check this out." She tapped the ceiling. "Get on your tip-toes and listen closely. You should probably be quiet about it, too." 

Curious, I tilted my head up and did as I was told. A soft reverberation pressed against my ear, hearing footsteps thud somewhere above ground. A large groan sounded as if someone sat down on a chair, the old furniture protesting. 

"...And then what?" Knautt's voice said directly above us, and another person who I could only assume to be Illiou replied back, muffled by the floorboards. 

"Can you hear anything?" Laira asked excitedly. "I can see your ears twitching." 

A rush of dread coursed through me. "Laira, we're right below the captain's quarters!" 

"I _know!_ Exciting, right? Now we canknow what they think about us, for real. I don't know about you, but deep down, I think Illiou's a gossiper." She stage-whispered. 

"I- no, forget about that, this isn't the right thing to do!" I protested. "They could be talking aboutprivate information, an-and sensitive stuff we shouldn't know about. We can be in serious hot water if they find out." 

Laira's gaze was already fixed to somewhere beyond the ceiling. "What are they gonna do,-" she murmured, "-kick us off?" 

"I- _maybe_!" 

"Hey, everyone on this ship _knows_ Illiou's got a soft spot for you. And as your best friend, that protection extends to me." She smiled. "Alright, I'll just do the listening for the both of us, and you don't have to say you were a part of this." She placed her hands my shoulders and propelled herself upwards before I could reply, pressing an ear to the dusty ceiling. 

Oh no, not under my watch. I huffed and used the moment to wrap my arms around her torso, ready to carry her across the other side of the tunnels and tell her to forget we ever found this place. What the captains didn't have to say to us, we didn't have to know about. Laira squirmed under my hold and started to giggle, making my heart leap. I bit my tongue but fell prey to her giggling fit, bringing the both of us to the dusty ground as our knees gave in.

"...You should have kept a closer eye on Elise, then!" Illiou spoke, loud enough to hear it from the floor. 

I turned and felt frozen to the spot, guilt twisting my stomach into knots. How could I forget about her? They must have realized that she was missing, but... If they wanted to discuss the topic with me, then they would call me in. We should really go. 

"What's the point of mulling over what we _should_ have done?" Knautt said. "Elise is missing _now_ , and we should send out a search for her before we end up regretting not doing that as well." 

"There's no time for that. We need to finish these shipments and carry out our next plan of action-" 

Laira must have felt my discomfort, shuffling closer to me and trying to smoothen out my raised fur. I shouldn't be listening to any of this right now. 

"-We have all the time in the damn world, and you _know_ that. Knautt objected, and I could hear the chair creak as he stood up. "What's the big deal? It could save her life for all we know." 

"Who said that this is a matter of life or death? You might see Elise as this sweet-spoken little thing, but she was a Lizardfolk raised to be a mercenary. Their kind are built to adapt to anything." 

Despite myself, I continued listening. 

"It's all the more reason to look for her, if something managed to take her off-board. She's not the kind of landstrider to abandon her post, especially when guarding the Glass. As a matter of fact, you can use the Glass to see into the future, can't you?" 

"I refuse to waste the artifact's potential on such mundane tasks." 

A snort. "Sounds like a load of whale-shit to me." 

"Delmer Knautt, I am your _superior authority_ -" I thought a seagull had managed to fly into the room to interrupt the conversation, before realizing it was Illiou's own wheezing and hacking. She had been holed up in her quarters since we had docked the ship, but from the sound of it, her sickness had gotten even worse. No words were exchanged for a few minutes, either because Illiou was regaining her composure or because they had begun to talk more quietly. 

"...Drop the subject." I finally heard her say. "If you're so insistent on finding Elise, I'll see what I can do." 

A pair of footsteps walked in our direction before passing, and I could hear the cabin door open and snap shut. There was the sound of parchment being unfurled, ink dotted and scrolled atop a table counter. I could only guess that one of the captains had stayed behind and was writing something down. 

My arms felt like jelly, fiddling with the end hairs on my tail. Laira rubbed away the debris from her ear, letting out a pent-up sigh of both relief and tenseness. "Now _that_ was something." 

I glanced away to look at a particularly interesting plank of wood, shrugging. "Tell me about it." 

"...Lisa." I stiffened. "You know something about this, don't you?" 

It was no use lying to her, but I couldn't bring myself to speak just yet. Warm hands brushed through my neck fur, cupping both sides of my cheeks. She gently tilted my head to face her, golden eyes creased in worry. 

"Please,-" She asked, "-tell me everything." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to cut this chapter draft into two parts due to its length, which is why this one is pretty low-tension for now. 
> 
> also, i haven't been able to find a good time to describe Borealis in the story so far, so hopefully i can whip up a character reference for her sometime soon! plus a map to mark a few locations on here


	6. Misfortune and Bargains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter so far with a single POV!

**Holav**

It would have been much easier to navigate the place in solitude, ducking under the long-legged strides of exotic steeds and strategically moving through the masses to avoid the eyes of hungry moneygrubbers. Nevertheless, I had obligated myself to help the two. Between a rather brazen performer that seemed too high-headed for her own good, and a gawking Skytrot that flounders off-track into the shops every chance he had, there had to be _someone_ to assess the trouble these two were inevitably going to get into. 

Paagal had asked the surrounding peddlers if they knew a messenger or two, and most of them pointed in the direction of the coast, talking about a high-set ledge just neighboring the western docks. The 'Owlery', as most of them called it. 

_"Aye, lass, you'll find what you're looking for, but you'll have to shout for 'em."_ I remember one saying, as her beady-eyed pet tried to get its claws on my travelling satchel. I set my eyes away long enough to push the small beast off, and looked back to find an empty space where she once was. 

I could see it now, while the clouds turned rose and the evening coolness made the walk easier to bear. A rustic building resembling a massive gazebo awaited us at the ledge, ivy coiling around granite pillars that reached upwards to support a dome that wasn't there. Various carvings and vandalizations scratched at its stonework. In the distance was an islet that held the same architecture, though encapsulated by the sea on all sides. It would only be accessible by those who had the ability of flight or teleportation. I could already see a sizable swarm above it, as some made their way to and from the open skies. 

There were only three to four people standing on this side of the Owlery, large knapsacks worn across their arms whilst adjusting garbs made for airborne travel. What I didn't expect to see was that, excepting one, all of them were Skytrots. I couldn't be surprised, though- while my homeland didn't see much birdfolk in its parts, their roots were home to the dewy forests of Anatoli. 

The wind picked up, a tin-whistle sound trailing right after a piece of paper that smacked Paagal in the face. She spat some curses into the air and handed over the sheet to Ero, not bothering to read the vibrant font on it. She muttered something about 'the ghosts of paperboys coming back to haunt her.' 

"Kerra Jetstead, Owlery Services. How can I help you?" A nearby messenger came up to us, all sleek feathers and laid-back tone of voice. His eyes were like two dots of ink against a black plumage, which flushed a lighter ivory at his throat. 

"You're not an owl." Paagal said lamely. 

"I'm aware." Jetstead replied, like it wasn't the first twenty times he's heard that. 

"Apologies on my compatriot's behalf." I cut any possibility of a conversation short, lifting my envelope to his face. "How much would it cost to send this to its designation?" 

He casually took it between his talons and gave it a once-over, before double-taking. 

"Whoa, buddy, this is a _bit_ out of my scope when it comes to a letter delivery." He tapped the florid writing. "I mean, do you know how far Detfiel is? I would have to pass right over the Crimson Draughts to get there. No messenger is going to risk their neck sending this." 

Paagal peeked over my shoulder. "Ooh, the Crimson Draughts? Sounds dangerous, what's it like?" 

Jetstead shuddered. "I'm serious. Some kind of magic anomaly made by the Fourth Ones screwed up the wind patterns over there and completely tore up the landscape."

"The Fourth Ones? As in Bahvlej's council?"

I could have threatened to kill his family and have gotten a less severe reaction. "Woah, you can say his name?"

"I... yes?"

He gawked at me for a few seconds, before shaking his head and looking back at the letter. "Woah- I- terribly sorry, I didn't know you were under his favor." His casual demeanor dropped, as if he found himself in the presence of royalty. "Even then, I'm afraid there's no chance at convincing a carrier across there." 

I frowned and exchanged a look with Paagal, who seemed as puzzled as I felt. With all our other options exhausted, there would be only one way to send the letter. 

I looked back at Jetstead and asked, "Would you happen to know any evocators?" The odds were unlikely. Most people skilled enough to perform evocation magic did better in high-end trading cities, their speedy services recognized better than on the streets of a clustered dockside town. 

"Oh, you're in luck. My friend knows someone who's in town. Only one in Yarnpork that knows that kind of teleportation stuff, as far as I'm aware. Bit selective with his clients, but I'll be sure to put the good word in so she could fix up an appointment for you." He spoke hurriedly, and turned his head back to make a greeting whistle at one of the other Skytrots. "Oi, Pinhead!" 

\--- 

And that's how I found myself in a shady alleyway in the midst of a bazaar, flanked in tow by a towering Skytrot, all for a single recommendation letter to get me out of this mess. 

"Here, just enter the door to your left." Pinhead gruffed, her messy tufts of grey casting a shadow over us. I was sure that wasn't her real name, but was too intimidated to ask otherwise. "Nirvek is snappy with his business, even if you're chummy with the Fourth Ones. If I don't see you out in five minutes, I'll assume he's hexed you into oblivion and be on my way." 

Well, that's reassuring. 

Paagal shook her head. "Let's just get this over with." She said, racing in. I willed myself to follow after her. 

The room itself did leave much to be desired- A single lantern soothing the cracked walls in orange tones. The interior decoration, however, exuded an overwhelming sense of wealth- a silken carpet nearly covering the entire floor was woven in prismatic seams, a bronze coffee table placed at its center. On top of it was a porcelain tea cosy, the steam wafting from the kettle filling the room with the smell of jasmine and thyme. 

At its farthest side was a middle-aged landstrider in maroon robes, thick and auburn eyebrows shrouding his eyes. I would have taken him for a magnate's statue if his smile didn't widen at the sight of us. Taking a step further, I could see a number of elliptical scrawlings etched in chalk on the table. Of course, they would have to be rune circles- the second most common form of casting magic aside from wands or staffs. 

"Welcome!" He said in a pleasantly neutral tone. "Tea?" 

Paagal propped up one foot on top of the counter, causing the kettle to shake. "Cut to the chase, old man. You're the evocator, yes? Can you send a letter for us or not?" 

His expression didn't change. "Of course. Fair service, fair price. All in a day's work for my patrons." 

She handed the envelope to him, which I didn't remember giving over to her. "Great. Shoot this over to Detfiel, will ya?" 

"My pleasure. As this would be your first commission, that would be nine hundred talis." 

"Pardon?" I heard myself say. Nine hundred. Did he say nine _hundred?_ Of course, I didn't expect the price of your usual messaging fee, but that amount would have been worth his porcelain set two times over. 

I could feel the weight of his words as heavy as the price he dealt, taking a while for anyone to actually respond. I already felt a sink in my pouch thinking about the little coin I had managed to scrape up in my travels. There couldn't be more than fifty talis on hand, if I was being optimistic. Perhaps the three of us had enough in total to split the fee. 

From the look of everyone else's faces, that wasn't likely. 

Paagal leaned forward to stare him down, tail lashing back and forth. "I dare you to repeat that again, old man." She growled. 

"Yes, you heard it here first. An entire twenty percent discount. Couldn't give it to you any cheaper!" 

"You call that cheap? I could hire a henchman right now to kick your ass five times over with that kind money." She cracked her knuckles. "Actually, I might as well do it myself." 

Not a wrinkle or hair shifted, tranquil smile locked on his face. "I've been in business for too long to be swayed by such threats, ma'am." 

She lunged forwards and grabbed him by the collar of his robes, knocking one of the cups over. "And how about now?" I felt my shoulders stiffen at the prospect of another fight breaking out, taking a step forward to stop her from pulling the first punch- 

As quick as a flash, he bolted his palm down onto the surface of the coffee table, right at the center of one of the rune circles. The engravings began to glow with an eerie red until it was blinding, and something like the sound of a flare signal shot off and pounced against the walls. 

When I next blinked, both the rune circle and Nirvek had vanished from the spot. With the sudden lack of support, Paagal stumbled over the other side of the table and hit the floor face-first. 

There was a rasp of door hinges turning, the room slowly awash in sunlight behind me. I turned to see Nirvek padding inside, holding a new tea set atop a spotless tray. 

He brought a cup to his lips, taking a drawn out sip as Paagal got to her feet. "Do keep in mind that you're asking me to secure a letter across half the continent, and the process of tailoring a rune circle is an arduous one. Why, the one I just used took me about a week to make." Ero and I moved out of the way while he walked inside. "I don't have the time to entertain you, especially as I'm taking to leaving Yarnpork by the end of this week. Much too noisy for my peace of mind." 

Nirvek looked back at us over his shoulder. 

"Now, unless you're willing to pay the price, I suggest you leave my reception." Though he still kept his smile, his gaze pierced into me with a keen malice. 

"Immediately." 

\--- 

Pinhead wasn't there to crowd the alleyway by the time we got out, so I assumed our five minutes were up. Ero was practically pulling Paagal out of the door as she hurled insults at the evocator, trying to squirm away from the former's armlock. As soon as we were out of earshot, I turned on her. 

"First of all- give that letter back." I tugged it away from her fingers, a nipping of frustration for she had taken it without my permission. "Second, what was _with_ you back there?" 

"What was with _me?_ That wrinkled git was tryna suck the money out of us, that's what!" She dug her heels into the soil, Ero finally letting her go. "We've been spending this entire sodded day searching for someone to send _one_ letter, and all we've got is some shady circles-man in the back of an alley who's demanding our life savings. What's he even going to do with all that talis, buy more teacups?" 

More than agitation, there seemed to be something else that deepened the lines of her high-strung expression. It was like the ground was made of needles to her, pricking under the soles for every moment she stood still. 

"Let's think about this rationally." I tried reasoning. "Even if we don't send this letter in time, our worst case scenario is that we take a boat and travel the long way home. We have plenty of time to make it back to Dytika." For some reason, her posture tensed even more at those words. "There's sure to be enough errands needed to run a marketplace that we can get in return for coin. How many talis do the both of you have right now?" 

"Four hundred on me, and this guy has two hundred. Well, had." She glanced over Ero's veal bag. "Uh, how much were those bones?" 

He shook his head, which meant... nothing? I felt my mouth run dry. Either he had stolen it from the market, gathered them himself, or... 

"You know what? I'm not even going to ask." She turned back to me. "That still makes six hundred in total." 

"I'm surprised the two of you had that much money for simply visiting a tavern." 

Paagal laughed. "Who said we got it before the tav-? Actually, nevermind." She quickly looked away. 

"Well, with my contribution, that leaves about two hundred and fifty talis left to earn." I continued. "It's nearing nightfall, so I think our best course of action should be to find a place to rest-" 

"-Find someone to give us money right now." Mine and Paagal's sentences overlapped, and I could see the surprise I felt reflected on her face. 

"Seriously? I thought you would be all for getting your little testimonial to Bandleg as soon as you could." Paagal said. 

"Bahvlej." I corrected. "It's been a long day already, it's better that we gather our remaining energy for-"

"-And at this rate we might as well rein in a boat and live on salt crackers for the next three weeks. I mean, you heard the old guy, he'll probably just warp out of here whenever he feels like it. And when that happens, we'll have to start this whole wild goose chase all over again!" 

"Well,-" 

I almost inhaled a row of feathers as Ero ducked his head between us, promptly cutting me off. In his claws was the sheet of paper from earlier, which was now folded into an origami boat. He dramatically raised it to our eye-level, icy blues looking at me expectantly. 

"See? Even Ero thinks we'll end up back at sea if we keep talking." She started walking off, waving at us to follow her. "Let's go find a job board, or just some Wanted posters so we can mow a couple criminals down." 

Ero gave her a sharp peck on the head. 

"Ow! What? Yeah, yeah, honor among thieves or whatever, but it's quick cash." 

He pointed again at his origami boat, and then started unfolding it, revealing a flashy pamphlet. He gave the terribly creased flyer for her to hold, her eyes sweeping over the printed side. Her frown of concentration blossomed into a cheek-stretching grin, bringing the sheet closer to her as if she couldn't believe what she was reading. 

"Ero, I owe you my fucking life." 

"What happened?" 

She flipped it over so I could read it, though it was hard to read the font-work in the growing dimness of the evening. 

"A magic duel. There's a free-for-all magic duel being held tomorrow morning. No registration, no catch, nada. And take a look at that moolah..." 

That part of the flyer was the easiest to read, and my heart skipped a beat as it swept over the number. Bold, slanted letters printed in the middle read: 

**'** **HOODOO'S ROULETTE**   
Show Up, and Show Down!   
-

**Dueling contest**

**WINNING PRIZE : 2000 TALIS!** **'**

**\---**

The rest of the night had passed by a lot quicker, Paagal having promptly thrown all of us into the nearest tavern in the name of celebration. It was a sight to behold after the withered atmosphere Icehide held, and it felt easy to lose my worries to the liveliness of the hostelry. The flyer seemed to have lifted Paagal's spirits more than what I'd expected, as she chattered away at the countertop and promised drinks on her. It made me wonder of a possible history she had with combat rings. 

"To Ero Dawnbreeze!" She proudly toasted, wringing an arm around him and wincing as her shoulder wound acted up. "Didn't even know you could read, big guy." Her tone of voice told me she was only half-joking. 

I peered down as my glass of white wine was served, gently churning its contents with the turn of a wrist. I took great care to bring the boquet under my nose, letting the smell and the coldness of the glass seep into the skin and intoxicate me, if even for a moment. Something told me I wouldn't find another place for good food and shelter for a while. 

I placed the flute back on the dinette, feeling a tightness claw at my chest. I couldn't bring myself to take more than a whiff. I pushed the glass over to Paagal and told her something about heading to bed early. 

She shrugged, downed my fill in one gulp, and returned to her flirting with one of the barmaids. From the swagger in her posture you would have thought she had won the dueling contest already. I held my tongue, deciding to let her overconfidence sate her worries for now. The lure of sleep that the ocean waves so dearly stole couldn't be lost in fruitless minutes of bickering. 

And on that thought, I sunk into the mattresses. 

\--- 

_A yellow light filtered through the gaps in the leaves and touched the forest in gold. I looked down from my place on the branches, smirking down at two big dots of people._

_"You look like ants from up here!" I called out._

_My siblings jeered back, but whatever they spoke was like trying to distinguish separate words from a crowd, slipping from and to my head. Dead leaves fell from the cypress tree I perched on, a crunch underfoot as my mother came up to us. She watched our back and forth with endearment, dark locks of air soaking up the sun._

_Childhood. Untouched by memory, and gilded by hindsight._

_"Come over here and help me get something for lunch, you three." My mother, on the contrary, was loud and clear, and as my siblings fought for her attention I shook my head and began to climb back down._

_I reached a foot towards an overshoot and prepared to set my weight on it, and the branch was no longer there._

_The forest around me dropped into the floor, leaving behind a backdrop of pure gray. The chattering had warped between peals of laughter and piercing shrieks. Gravity turned on me and forced me downwards, my mother's face somehow fresh in my vision. It was twisting into something asinine. Gaping jaws and frayed eyes, a tension crackling in the air just as the beast lunged for me, leaving a horrible cackling in its wake._

_It was gone._

_I was dreaming, yet again._

_But I still fell._

_Or did I float?_

_..._

_There was earth beneath my feet once more._

_Something was terribly, terribly wrong._

_The ground was rust under slacked hills and smoothed caveats where shrubs and florets pull petals to pistil and wilt and shrink back to seeds and die backwards in soil a hundred times_

_The sun sped over red. All there touched in blood and onyx. The mouth of the cave aged hundredfold across the landscape and I once, reaching for my satchel and pulling out scrolls_

_There was no scroll, a warp of black engulfing my left arm and it itched and burnt and black. Black spiders crawled out from a satchel and fingertips, unknitting flesh and sinew. Blood turned to dusk, turn to poison. I couldn't bear to inhale_

_I was directly in front of the caves, the entrance infested with insects and arachnoids. Their scuttling dug in_ _to the barest reaches of my mind. Parchment, magenta, nails scraping at slate. My arms were dry_

_I barreled inside using what was left of my body, rock and sky coated by wine red. Yawaog was here. Yawaog was mine._

_"Show yourself, Dian."_

_I turned towards the giggling, a single flower with petals slowly attaching back to it. 'Hate me... hate me not.. Hate me... hate me not..'_

_All five petals came back together. The giggling was louder._

_'Ah, my̛ dear̨es̸t̷ ͝misfortune. Have I not given you enough? Were̢ ͜m̢y o͞w͠n bles̛sings only to lead you he̵r̢e?'̧'_ _' Her disembodied voice belonged to the gleam of the caves' ore veins, high-pitched and shamelessly cruel. The presence of a chaos Numen was not easy to tolerate, a scuttling sensation behind my eyes and between my temples intensifying with every syllable._

_My jaw felt heavy with the weight of my thoughts, words forced out in a slur._ _"I came here after all these years, just as you told me. Now take it back. Take your 'blessings' back and let me go."_

_'Oh,_ ** _but yơųr time̵ h͢a̢sn't c_** _ome yet. The fun is only beginnin̡g͏.̴ ̶Wh̷at̴ us͟e ͠is it, t_ ** _o give up my play_** _ing piece so early in͝ ͜the ̷game?'_

_"Don't make me your damn pawn. I-" My voice betrayed me as the weight dropped to my throat. "_ Please. _Just take it all back._ _"_

_'Quite r̶ude t͝o̷ d̨ęma͞_ ** _n̴d ̨a ͞god to undo their_** _blessings. Like a child,c̕ry͞in_ ** _g͠ over an expe_** _nsive toy. I've placed th̷e̢ power̢ of a̵ ̧n͟e͜bula in your palms, to bring the world to an ̨i̡nfi̡n̡itesi͡m͏a͞l, and you'd sooner throw it all away. W̛a̵s_ ** _that ̷n̶o͝t̴ ̨t͠he͞ ̴ve͘ry͠ ̧t̨hin_** _g y͢ou want̷ȩd?' ͟_

_"Wanted? You've taken everything from me, used everything I had left for your own sick games, and now you're asking for more?"_

_Her giggling never ceased, and it only turned more cloy with every word I spoke._

_'That's what͜ I l̸i̸k͟e͜ ̸a̸b_ ** _out ͡y͝ou,͠ my̛ d͝ea̸r͠.͏ Yo̸u r_** _ead between the lines better than other̴ ͘mortal̶s. ͜But I see it still, you haven't finished the game. Haven't don_ ** _e enough with my gif͘t. ͟Ret͝ư_** _rn to my sanctuary when you've f_ ** _ulfill̶e̸d your͜ side ͝o̕f ͞_** _o͡u̸r arrangement.'_

_A flame burned in the pits of my chest, and I wanted to breathe fire at her, to refuse her will. Instead, its intensity pulled me to my knees_ _, the freezing stalactite sending a shiver up my spine. I shook and retched broken sobs whose tears mixed with the shallow sea water underneath my knuckles._

_'Perh͢a̕p̧_ ** _s̕ a ̸glimpse behi_** _nd the ve̷i̶l͡ ͘of ch̨aoş wil̕l buil_ ** _d some character in_** _you. Loo͟k̛ ̛u̕p, ̸my dear.'_

_I knew what I'd see, and I couldn't face it. Not again. I forced my eyes shut._

_'Tch, tch. No n̢ȩed_ ** _to̢ be ̧so͝ ̡d͏iff_** _̢ic͢ul͜t͞.' ̷_

_The throbbing sensation in my temples moved down to invade the muscles in my neck, lurching my head up._ _A spike of pain grew from between my eyebrows and dragged upwards, like an incision in the middle of my forehead. I felt something bulge outwards from the cut, a garble of senses scattering around the area until... Until I could see through it. A third eye._

_And through it, I saw._


	7. The Third Dawn

**Holav**

_The sea engulfed my vision, blurring sight and burning eye. A seethe of hands stretched out to reach me, a single blue grasp to find its trench in the roots of my drifting hair_

_A garden scape of hubris watch each one bloom into wilt. white stains red to sore its thorns the sun in its magnitude makes flourish in lilt and destruction in scorn_

_simplicity in multitude, disorder folding in on itself for order, can you face every reality you take? one big cavort between time and entropy, a great curtain pinched at ends that expands infinitely into infinity to infinitely seize_

_eternity in baited breath, flesh bleeds to nourish planets planets crumble to assimilate galaxies galaxies collapse to birth the cosmos the cosmos decay to feed the Divinities_

_burn the world and watch from the center of the flames_

_you'r_ _e broken beyond repair, repaired beyond breakage_

_tear down the curtains of reality_

_can you hold that blooming wilt?_

_Don't inhale._

_Don't exhale._

_You ca_ _n̸'t ̨inhal_ _e_   
_y͝ơu͏ ͠c͢a͢ņ't ̶ex̕hal̨e͞_

_\---_

There was screaming. I was choked awake in a cold sweat. 

Flinging forwards, my fingers dug into the edges of the blanket with a visceral grip. A few locks of hair draped over my face, obscuring my vision. Shaken and unfocused, I lifted a hand to my face, only to feel the cool, fresh moisture at the corner of my eyes. 

My fingers instinctively traced over the muscles in my neck, jaws still sore. With ragged breaths, I realized that the screaming had belonged to me. 

And I laughed. 

I laughed until my throat was hoarse and my head spun, laughed until my ribs ached and until I couldn't bear the sound of my own voice. Hands raked into what was now a mess of hair, so deep that I was sure I drew blood. 

Of course. Of course I could remember. How could I forget? 

It was like a broken record, distorted and ratting with every reply as it slowly slips into corruption. I couldn't escape its truth, not in waking hours nor in the deepest crevices of my mind. 

A taste of chaos was all it took. I could barely remember what truly happened the moment I entered those caves, even though it was only two sunrises ago. 

I inhaled. 

I sensed more than I saw my dreams, more than I heard them, even. I found myself already trying to fit the pieces into something more comprehensible, but the edges were jagged and they cut into my mind's eye the more I tried to think about it. Were they simply useless reflections of my inner psyche? Visions for the future? Or were they a reminder of what Dian was truly capable of doing, even to those under her favor? 

I exhaled, turning to release that precious breath into a still night sky. Somewhere out there, beyond a fortnight of sea and nestled under a hill's sloping arete was Yawaog. 

**_'_** ** _͟Ret͝ư_** _rn to my sanctuary when you've f_ ** _ulfill̶e̸d your͜ side ͝o̕f ͞_** _o͡u̸r arrangement.'_

Oh, this was going to going to be no arrangement. 

This was going to be war. 

_\-----_

**Borealis of Silverfog**

"Borealis? Tou Illiou wants you to meet her at the captain's quarters." 

I nearly chopped off my own paw with the kitchen knife, tonight's porgy slipping from under my grasp. Sorrel tentatively edged the pantry, his bulking figure hunched so his eye level met just below the doorframe. I carefully put down my utensils and looked up at him, wiping the fish grease away on my apron. 

"What's up?" I asked, a bout of anxiety already welling up in me.   
"She didn't tell me. Didn't seem angry, if that's what you're nervous about." He gestured with his head to come outside and ducked out. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I followed after him. Did the captain find out about us yesterday? 

"What's Laira up to these days?" Sorrel asked on our way there, ever the one to strike up a conversation. "I haven't seen her above deck in _weeks._ Her current project seems to be keeping her pretty busy below the surface, though I heard something from the night crew about her chatting up one of the stowaways." 

A mixture of strange emotions squirmed in the depths of my chest from those words, though I couldn't put a finger on why. "You think so?" 

"I don't know about you, but it's kind of hard to ignore the gearwork right next to your cabin when you're trying to sleep." Sorrel muttered. 

I offered a smile of apology. "Sorry about that." 

"Mhm, no biggie." The door to Illiou's and Knautt's quarters were ahead of us, and he gave me his idea of a pat on the shoulder that nearly knocked the wind out of me. "Here we go. I can't make a fisherman's pie as mean as yours, but I can take over your duties as a cook for the time being." 

"Thanks, Sorrel. I owe you one." 

"Anytime." He nodded, ambling out of my periphery. 

I stood in front of the entrance long enough for it to be awkward, fiddling with my hands as I gathered the courage to knock on it. The last time I was called to meet with either of the captains was for my appointment as a guard of the Oracle's Glass, a little under a week ago. 

I could already see my life an hour from now flashing before my eyes. The captains find out about us eavesdropping on their last conversation and publicly kick us off the boat for treason. We're left to fend for ourselves in the streets of Yarnpork, make our way back to Silverfog empty-handed- 

A passing seagull sent its cry into the open, forcing me back into the present. With a pause, I saw myself take the handle of the knocker and tap on the wood. 

"Come in." 

Illiou lied on a seat that neighbored the farthest wall of the place, head rested on an arm that she had propped up on the table. There was a drape that was pulled over the windows, leaving the only source of light to be the lantern on the board that touched everything in an ethereal white. 

Before I could open my maw and say something, she rasped, "I have a mission for you." 

"...Yes, ma'am?" 

She got up from where she sat, wincing like a wave of nausea rushed to her head. Her face struck me as a shade paler from her already ghostly complexion, even if the lighting might have added to that. Posture was more rigid than usual, she held herself up like one would a ragdoll. I never saw her that often after she had isolated herself in the cabins in her recovery, but it was obvious her sickness was still taking a heavy toll on her. Nobody knew what the captain was exactly sick _with_ , and the rumors were only spreading. The only person she allowed to treat her was Captain Knautt, and he was unusually quiet about the entire ordeal. 

Captain Illiou took in a deep breath and snapped her fingers, and from the point a golden-tinted dome washed over us, expanding until its rim touched the stunted ceiling and grazed the very corners of the room. Everything beyond held a tint of saffron that I could barely see past. 

"No one can see the sphere except the two of us." She explained. "I don't want my words to pass to wandering ears, so take them with great caution." 

I gulped. "Can... anyone outside hear us?" 

"Technically, they can. This spell should serve as a mental repellent, however, so that nobody except for the two of us will want to be in its proximity. Should keep most things out of earshot." 

I realized that the spell _was_ probably in the shape of a sphere, but had clipped through the floorboards to occupy space beneath the planks. We must have been close enough in the treasury to be within its range. 

"I won't repeat this twice, so listen closely. The Oracle's Glass needs to be delivered under The Fourth Ones as soon as possible." 

I blinked. "You want me to deliver it to Bahvlej's council?" 

"Correct. I cannot give you the direct details, however." She moved over to one of the wayside drawers and pulled something out, the disturbance causing a dust cloud to escape into the stale air. 

When she came back, she unfurled a worn-out parchment and handed to me a map. It showed a cartograph of the upper half of Anatoli, a few marks of bright red spotting the Eastside Continent. Each one had a small label marked under them, with the rightmost side listed as 'Detfiel' in bolder writing. 

"Each one of these destinations has well-reputed evocation ports for travelers." Her slender pincer of a finger dragged across a thin line that joined each red dot together. "This is the quicket route you can take using these evocation ports; from travelling to Quickhelm on foot, then to Asios, Thalassa, Gumpterstiel, and finally Detfiel." She tapped the final mark on the map, just after a dark mountain range that was named 'The Crimson Draughts'. "Bahvlej's residence is here, past this range. The journey to your first town should take you about three days." 

I nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue. 

"This trip will not be without resistance, however. There is a family in Thalassa looking for the Oracle's Glass, and under no circumstances can they learn about this mission." 

A stiff hand was suddenly placed on my shoulder, and it was like the cold of the sea seeped from her touch. I tried my best not to shudder. 

"Remember their name. The Vowharts." 

"The Vowharts?" 

"They're a nobility with enough wealth to match the power of armies, and their aristocratic claws sink deep in these parts of Anatoli. Your mission should be kept secret at all times, but you must be especially sure to cover your tracks when you are in Thalassa. Use your expertise in illusion magic to your advantage. Do not let any word spread about the artefact." 

"Yes, ma'am." I hesitated. "Is there anyone else coming with me?" 

"Sorrel and Mirol will accompany you in your travels." 

"But what about everyone else? Wouldn't they want to know why the three of us are leaving?" 

"Yes. As far as they're aware, the three of you will be leaving as a search party to find Elise. Word has been spreading in the ship... surprisingly fast about her." 

"But... Who's going to look for her, then?" 

"There are times too important to worry about lesser matters." It was like a shadow fell over her eyes. "And important matters to worry about in lesser times. Knautt continues his baseless demands, and his unrest will only agitate the rest of the crew. It's only a matter of time until the entire ship calls out for her 'justice.' This is the only way to deal with his qualms... for now." 

"Does... does he not know about the mission, then?" 

"Borealis, only the four of us will know of this. Not the cooks, not the guards, not the sail-steeds, not even Laira." She fixed me with a purposeful stare. "Sorrel and Mirol will only be there for your protection, but they know little of the true nature of the Oracle's Glass. Do not let them ask any questions." 

Well, it wasn't like I knew much about the artifact, either. 

I couldn't bring myself to fill the silence that came after her words, twitching at the pendant on my neck and biting my lip. Most would call me fairly well-travelled, but I always had Laira to take on the world together when it was too unfamiliar, too dangerous, and the comfort of my crew-mates to fall back on still. This... this was different. 

This ship has been a home to me for many years, cradling me when the cold waves stretched out to blanket the clouds. I couldn't imagine myself leaving just yet, especially at a prospect like this. The idea of adventure was captivating in the way that they nestled in the pages of story books, blended with the words of folk tales being exchanged. 

And I knew, for all I am, an adventurer was not one of them. 

"...I need some time to think about it, ma'am." 

"You don't have that privilege. I'll be announcing the news this morning. Get everything you need, along with a good bag to hide the Glass in. The three of you leave at sunhigh." 

No. 

I thought my ears had betrayed me. Noon would be here in only seven hours. This was all happening too soon. My friends, my cabin, my _home_ \- 

"I see you're hesitating, Borealis." 

I clutched my arms around me and tried to blink away the tears in my eyes. I couldn't disobey a direct order from my captain, but... Oh, if only Laira were here. She was much better at speaking her thoughts out loud. What would she say? 

"...I don't think I'm ready." 

"Excuse me?" She said. My voice was pinched, but I braced myself in repeating those words. Realizing I had closed my eyes shut, I opened them again. 

The dome had disappeared. Tou Illiou was shaking, lips drawn back to reveal uncanny, razor-sharp teeth. Something began to emanate from my shoulder, where she had placed my hand. 

I startled backwards as the spot began to burn, watching as a silvery smoke began to engulf her arm. In a single, terrifying heartbeat, it had covered the left side of her body in its entirety and left it a silhouette of marble under its touch. Her form seemed to shudder and shift at a rapid pace, grow and shrink, as if the space around her couldn't decide where she was supposed to be standing. 

She wheezed and growled, though I couldn't tell if it was out of pain or anger. The stench of vinegar began to sear my nostrils, making my stomach churn. Before she was brought to her knees, she reached out a palm towards the lantern on the table, shouting something before the smoke reached past her neck. The intensity of its light suddenly doubled, and the entire room basked in its white. 

When its original glow returned, it was like the past twenty seconds had never happened. Illiou stood over the table in her usual form, placing both hands on the table as support. I could feel the very fur on the back of my neck bristle. 

She wiped something off her mouth with a spotless sleeve. Between short bursts of heaving, she said, "I cannot trust anyone else with the responsibility of carrying the Oracle's Glass, Borealis. You..." She stood up to her full height, back still turned. 

"The artifact affects you differently." 

She was transfixed on the lantern, like looking away from it was a matter of life or death. I couldn't read her face from the position. The artifact affects me differently... what did she mean by that? Did her sickness have something to do with all of this? What did I even _witness_? 

"I've said too much." She kept a hand on the lantern and murmured something. The dome dropped, and outside I could sense the dawn soon arriving. "There are duties in life that cannot simply be brushed off, responsibilities we must carry even if we cannot bear the weight. Borealis, I need your word for this mission. Can I be sure to trust you with the Oracle's Glass?" 

I allowed myself to breathe, crossing a palm right over my heart where my pendant hung. Corveia, give me the courage and health for what I must do now. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

\----- 

**Ero Dawnbreeze**

I pressed my face against the window, only to move back when my breath touched the glass in fog. A trail of red inched across the sky, and I knew it would only be a matter of time until the horizons were awash in daylight in the wake of the morning. I couldn't imagine ever getting tired of seeing the sunrise, even a thousand times over. 

I sat in one of the many vacant seats of our current tavern, _The Tipsy Jug._ The smell of fresh fruit pies and sweetbread wafted over from the kitchens, and through the door's ajar I could see the bar people twist open water taps, ready to clean crumbs off plates and to wash away the dew of beer from each tankard. Madame Smalltart, the tavernkeeper, poked her head out, tying a cherry colored handkerchief right at the ends of her greying hairs. Her smile warmed at the sight of me. "Oh, awake already, dear?" 

I gave a hearty chirrup in response. 

"Well, if you need an early breakfast, don't be afraid to call one of us over." She turned to leave behind the door, before glancing back at me again. "I mean it. Please don't try to jump into the kitchens to get to our food again." 

I looked back and clicked in thought, leaning my head against the chair. The last group of people didn't make as much as of a fuss about it, though it was weird of them to keep an hourglass in their storage. Wasn't that place for, well, food? 

A inn door swung open with a crash. 

"ERO!" Jhakkii cried out. 

I was on my feet instantly. She was looking down at me from the top flight of the stairs, breathing heavy and eyes wide. I felt the very hackles of my feathers raise in alarm. Did something happen? 

She immediately switched her composure after the first few seconds, casually leaning forwards with smirk on her face. "Heh, acting skills aren't out of practice yet, are they?" She swung herself over the bars of the stairs, falling to the tavern's floor level with a natural ease. 

"Holav wanted to talk with us. They'll be in their room. Down the corridor, third door to the left." She leaned over the counter and shouted out for Madame Smalltart. "Uh, I'll meet the two of you in a few minutes, just gotta order something." 

As I made my way up the stairs, I heard her ask for a 'Spool-lamb Medley', followed by a noise of disappointment as the spinster told her she's never heard of it. 

\--- 

The first thing that struck out to me as I entered the room were the stacks upon stacks of notes, pinned up to one of the walls. They shuddered from the surges of wind that buffeted through the window, a ceaseless rattling and twitching that almost engulfed the brown planks behind it in white. There was writing scrawled on every piece of paper, large streaks of black that seem to cross over multiple posts to link two notes together. 

The second thing that I was aware of was the faintest crackle of electricity in the room, a sensation that I often associated with a brewing thunderstorm. The windows told a story of a cloudless sky, however. I looked up to see if there was a tiny storm cloud on the ceiling, teeming with bolts of lightning just yet to strike. 

A particularly strong gust of wind put out the single lantern in the room, and everything fell to black. 

"Wonderful, you're here." 

I nearly raked Holav across the eyes as their voice breathed into my left ear, letting out a screech of trepidation as they yelped back. There's only so many times a Skytrot can take being startled, dammit! 

They jumped an agreeable distance back, arms tucked under their cloak. "Apologies. I'll just go back and, ah, relight that." 

Seeing them under the scarce lighting was still not much farther from a scare, though. Their hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, deft eyebags punctuating their face like they hadn't a lick of sleep in days. Their eyes were a luminous pink that circled sheenless pupils in the darkness, and there was a madness to the way the twilight shaded their face. 

"I brought you here to evaluate yours and Paagal's skill in magic combat. For the upcoming duel, of course. Where is she, anyhow?" 

"Right here." She called out from what sounded like the corridor. In a few seconds she walked in, a small tray of pastries in hand. She popped one into her mouth and leaned on the doorframe, eyes widening. "Oh, wow. This place is a _mess_. Whaf'd I miss?" 

"I'd appreciate it if you could take more initiative here. Your performance at the magic-duel _does_ seal our fate reaching home, after all." 

She paused her chewing on the sweet and made a loud swallow. "Is that what this little get-together is about? This won't be my first rodeo, hon, don't sweat it." 

"That's what I thought. Which is why I wanted to ask about your strategy when it comes to fighting." 

" _Fighting?_ " Jhakkii threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, no, common misunderstanding, my dear. Magic duels are all about thedrama, you see. Purely for entertainment's sake. You play a character, spin a story with your opponent, put up a good show. It's what keeps the crowd on their toes. If they really wanted some bloodshed, they'd look for, I dunno, a gladiator ring or something." 

She flicked a jelly tart upwards and managed to land it on the tip of her tail, balancing it with uncanny precision as a smug look plastered her face. Holav didn't seem especially happy about the sudden switch, to be the one being explained to. "How would you decide a winner, then?" They asked. 

"Didn't you hear me? The _drama_ _._ You win the hearts of the audience, and they'll be voting for you in no time." 

_"_ So, this is essentially a glorified audition for a play?" 

"Pretty much, but we're all fighting to be the main character." She shot the tart back into the air and caught it in her mouth. 

"Thaf's where m' alias comes in." She swallowed, waving a hand dramatically into the air. "' _The Reanimator_ '. Has a ring to it, don't you think? Wait, is this what all these notes were about?" She waved to the parchment-covered walls. "Bloody war strategies?" 

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, that's for my own personal research." They walked over and started to gently peel away each note. "Though, there is still an element of combat to these duels, yes?" 

"If you mean trying to zap the other unconscious while doing the hokey-pokey, then yeah." 

"Then what's your class? Arcane source? Typical lineage power grade?" They tapped expectantly at the flyer that they had also posted up. "It says here that you're allowed to draw from _one_ source of power for your magic spells, and that physical fighting should be kept to a minimum. Are you a dual wielder, or- 

"Wait, wait, one question at a time, _please._ " 

They took in a deep breath, clearly exasperated. "Can I take a look at your magic-maker?" 

"I mean, normally you ask the person out to dinner first." 

"What? No. As in, your arcane source." They explained. "There has to be _something_ that conducts energy into the magic needed to create a spell. Entropy, if you will." 

"Oh, that would be my lute, then?" She patted the instrument that hung along the side of her belt, tugging at a string. 

They nodded. "Alright, music-based spellcasting. What kind of magic do you specialize in?" 

She gave a coy smirk. "Oh, I'd rather keep that a surprise. What's got you so worried, wise guy? You could easily dazzle a run-off-the-mill dock-town like this with a lightning show. Oh, and if you made all the bolts multi-coloured-" 

"Paagal. I'm not participating in the duel." 

She gave a nervous chuckle. "What?" 

"And how about you, Dawnbreeze?" They looked up at me. "What's your expertise?" 

I shook my head. Magic was fascinating to me, but I had never bothered to learn it for my time being. 

"Hey, _hey_ , Don't think I can't see you dodging the question!" Jhakkii interrupted. "Were you just not planning to tell us you're ditching the competition?" 

I could see the sun just about to make it past the horizons, the very sight of it making me light on my feet. I drifted across the room until the windows took up my entire vision, making sure I didn't fog up the glass this time. 

"I never said I was going to run it in the first place." Holav's tone darkened. "What, were you hinging on me for this entire ordeal?" 

"Well, kind of! I didn't expect you to just bench the entire thing!" She retaliated. "I saw what you were capable of back on that ship. What, suddenly too scared to fight for our way back home?" 

"It's nothing like that, I-" They stammered. "It's a taxing process on both my mind and body, more than what's typical." 

"So it just makes you sleepy?" 

"I'm not done yet." They absent-mindedly flexed their left hand, a glove wrapped along the arm. 

"My casting is known to be... especially volatile. I have little control over the magnitude of the spell, or of its accuracy, which means I put the lives of other people and mine at risk whenever I try to prepare one. It's too unpredictable to be relied on in a fight. My degree of control over it changes depending on the lunar dates, and..." 

"And?" 

"Well, we're a few days shy of it being at its most eruptive." 

Jhakkii groaned, pressing her knuckles against her forehead. "Can't you do _something_ about it, at least? Some kind of handicap? A spell to make it, I don't know, less zappy? The extra help wouldn't hurt." 

"I can assure you that if there was some way to stabilize it, I would have figured it eight years ago. Although..." 

Sunrise was fast approaching, and I could feel the first few tantalizing rays of dawn soak into my feathers. I glimpsed back, wondering how these two could quarrel at a sight like this. 

"You remember what I told you, about having sensed something powerful on that ship? It must have done something to stabilize my magic. Either way, I can't rely on it for now, even under a combat situation." 

"Heh, what are you, cursed?" 

They gave her a meaningful look, and Jhakkii's expression softened. "Oh." 

Horns belted out in the distance, the trumpeting beginning to swell in the background. People poured into the streets, all moving towards the single point from where the horns bellowed. The sound must have meant something, for the conversation in the room dropped entirely. 

"The conch shells." Holav said. "Hoodoo's Roulette is about to begin its initiation." 

With a sigh, Jhakkii leaned back on her own two feet. 

"Alright, damn, time to get things moving. You still got those bones, Ero?" 


	8. Six Feet Under

**Ero Dawnbreeze**

The conch shells still haven't stopped ringing, and from the sounds of it, we were heading towards the noise. 

I followed beside Jhakkii and Holav as we were pushed along with the crowd. They fought for fresh air between the districts' narrow alleys with the rest of the landstriders, while the skies were run over with Skytrots barely missing one another. This duel thing must be pretty popular around here. It felt like we were a part of a single unit, merging and pulsing together in the same direction, though people settled amongst their own packs and groups when the route granted that space. 

\--- 

_Jhakkii picked out a small twig of a bone from the sack, twirling it around her fingers before shaking her head and tossing it away. "Nope."_

_She'd been going at it for a while, taking a skull or bone from my lovingly handled bag to either throw into the carpets of Holav's bedroom or to place by her lap._

_"No...no..." She shoved her head in as the sack was a couple femurs shy of being empty. "No! Ugh, come on, I just need one last headpiece!"_

_Holav glanced between her and I. "May I kindly ask... What exactly it is you're doing?"_

_"Maybe, but then you'd probably stop me from doing it." She pulled out a lone rib and flipped the bag over head-first, revealing a freshly emptied knapsack. She fell on her back and gave a dramatic groan of defeat. "We're done for."_

_"What? Why? You've just been rummaging through an assortment of_ bones _for the past five minutes." Holav pointed over to me. "And Dawnbreeze has been_ swallowing _every piece that has gotten close enough to him."_

_I continued pecking at my sesamoid, shooting them a glare. What? I wasn't going to just skip my breakfast like that._

_Jhakkii lolled her head back to get a better look at Holav, about to suck in a breath to reply, when her focus shifted to a point behind us. "Ooh. Perfect."_

_She pulled herself feet-first with enough momentum to leave her suspended in the air, brushing past us with a couple of flips until she stood just under a deer head, hanging on the walls as decorum. At least, what remained of it._

_She pulled the skull clean off, fiddling with the antlers until they detached, and undid the hook between the face and lower jaw entirely._

_"Not what I'd hope, but then again, my usual clobber is on the other side of the world now."_

_She turned back to us and lifted the remainder of the skull to her face, which aligned neatly with her own set of horns. Aside from that, the only other part exposed were her eyes, flickering like a candlelight in the midst of her dark sclera._

_"What do you think?" She smirked._

She wasn't wearing that mask for now, but everything else was set in place. A dark cloth she had taken for a shawl back in Icehide draped the back of her shoulders like a capelet, complementing her direshade boots. The rest of her attire hadn't changed much, aside from using the tiny pile of animal skulls she had picked out as elbow and knee guards. You'd think she was attending some kind of twisted circus act, though from the way she walked it did seem like the tightrope was already underneath her. 

Holav occasionally took a few trepidatious glances at her outfit. "I think it's quite disrespectful, to... _embellish_ yourself with what once belonged to a living creature." 

"Yeah? Not like they're going to need these back anytime soon." She was tuning the pegs on her lute, playing a discordant note with a frown. "D'you think I should move the pitch up a notch?" She turned to me. "Gives my spells a bit more _pizzazz_ , but it's pretty tricky to keep track of things." 

I chirped back. 

"Yeah, better stick to standard tuning." She looked back down at the pegbox again. 

"Whoever hunted those animals down stripped away their flesh and hide down to the bone, simple for the sake of profit." They muttered. "You have to give value to the life you take, by only allowing yourself what you need from it and returning the rest to nature. A hunter's honor." 

"Jeez, you want me to win this contest or not? I need at least _something_ to help me stand out, wise guy." She tilted her head to the marketfolk, who stole a few glances themselves at her garments. "You get it, right, Ero?" 

I chuffed and nodded. Personally, that skull would have made for a hearty lunch. 

She strummed a chord into the streets and a black soundwave flew from the contact, something like an icy jolt hitting me between the eyes. The people surrounding us flinched back as well, rubbing at their foreheads. 

The insignia at the middle of her lute, a four-point star, emanated a similarly dark glow, fading when the spell came to an end. 

Holav stopped clutching at the sides of their head. "What sort of spell was _t_ _hat?_ " 

"No idea." 

"Casting a spell without full concentration? Whoever enchanted that lute did their job very well. _Too_ well." They narrowed their eyes. "Where did you get that instrument, Paagal?" 

"Mmm, you can say it was a gift from an old friend group. Too bad I didn't have this on the ship, because I sure as hell could have done some damage. It's not even specialized for combat magic." 

"Then?" 

"Ah, you'll see." She grinned at the both of us. Holav seemed to have more to say, but at this point I was beginning to tune out the jabbering between the two. 

\--- 

The mass took us to the westside of The Owlery, where the great green heads of the forest scattered dawn's touch. A winding stone path slowly raised itself, maneuvered like a river to meet a great, rectangular lake of igneous at its end. 

It was a formation of rings, each one elevated off the ground slightly higher than the last, until the last few that held the seats were levitating in the air. It reminded me of a pond ripple, and near its center the rings debossed the earth, creating a receding trench that was an acre's width. The middle ring was exactly at ground level, acting as a divide between audience and auditorium. 

Most people shuffled themselves to their desired seats, while the other Skytrots flew themselves to the highest spots. 

"Come one, come all, to Hoodoo's Roulette!" A rosy voice rung above it all, and the invisible conch shells belted out no more. Too busy admiring the landscape, I hadn't bothered to look straight ahead of me. 

There was a totem pole made of the same kind of stone as everything else, marked with bright red paints (At least, I hoped it was red paint), with the greater end carved into a rather blocky... face? I couldn't tell from the distance. Afront the totem was a stone table, where five old-looking people in heavy robes poked their noses into the air and took down notes. 

"Glory be to he who gazes down upon his sanctuary; Hoodoo, the Numen of Valiance and Honor." I still couldn't find the source of that voice, turning circles on the spot to get a better view of everything. 

"Ero, what are you- Oh, wow, is this place a _temple_?" Jhakkii asked, looking around. 

"Was that not obvious?" Holav said. 

"All who are here to participate in the duel may step into the middle ring. The initiation round shall begin shortly." 

Jhakkii waved to the both of us. "Actually," she paused, "-d'you think you can cast some kind of lucky charm on me?" 

"Luck... isn't exactly something that can be magically manipulated. Even if I could, the judges would immediately disqualify you." Holav nodded to the table-persons. 

"Judges?" She sounded surprised. "That's new." 

"Perhaps Anatolian duels work a little differently from Dytikan ones." 

"Pssh, yeah. No need to point out the obvious." She rolled her eyes. "How about a cheek kiss, then? I'll take my good luck the ol' fashioned way." 

"No." They deadpanned. 

I bent down and nudged Jhakkii's cheek with my beak as gingerly as I could. 

"Heh, I'll take that." She grinned up at me and slung one last hug across my shoulders, inches shy of dangling off the ground. "Well, I'll meet the both of you on the other side." 

"Fingers crossed." 

She adjusted the mask onto her face and turned around, moving in with what seemed to be another dozen people. 

**\-----** **\-----** **\-----** **\-----**

**Borealis of Silverfog**

I never remember the utensils-rack being as heavy as it is every time I have to push it away. 

I managed to tilt it on its side, where it made just enough space for me to unlock the trapdoor. I kept my ears piqued for any approaching footsteps, but I know Illiou had made sure that no one would be entering the pantries at this time of day. 

\--- 

_It wasn't every day you get news like this- As Illiou stepped down from the quarterdeck's forecastle after the announcement of our 'search party', tongues were already set on wagging. In the life of a seaward exporter, greeted every day to vacant, salty docks, anyone would gladly welcome something new to talk about. Anything other than their backs being sore from carrying shipments night-in and day-out, or from the seagulls nearly squabbling one's eyes out at the crow's nest. It was natural, after we were all pushed back into the mundane after getting a taste of true adventure._

_And as the one person who didn't miss adventure, I, of course, had to be the one thrust into it._

_\---_

To the naked eye, there wasn't a trapdoor, just the usual plank of the floorboards that were less dusty under the cover of the utensils-rack. I pressed a palm to the ground and another to my pendant, channeling its power to will the illusion to drop. 

My other hand found an iron handle fading into visibility, and I lifted the flap. 

\--- 

_It made sense- for Sorrel, Mirol and I to be the ones to track Elise. Aside from his survival skills, Mirol was the best tracker on ship. Sorrel was one of the more popular mariners on board, and had a knack for piecing together just the right information out of something. And, well, people thought Elise and I were close._

_Curiosity only sparked into commotion when they found out that I, Borealis 'Lily-liver' of Silverfog, would be the one_ leading _the group._

\--- 

I wouldn't say I was very skilled person, more than I am gifted. Even at the farthest reaches of the hull, I could feel the miasmic trove of power the hourglass held. 'Archaic Intuition', they told me, a name for the ability to sense magic in an object. It surprised me to know that not everyone had it, though it made sense that the Oracle's Glass managed to stay in secrecy for so long. 

_"The artifact affects you differently."_

No... that couldn't be what Illiou was talking about. 

Sunlight spooled about the brief gap between this room and the trapdoor's hinges. Its black, metal bars soaked up any trace of a glint, while the orange sand looked as if it had caught on a blue fire. I rifled through my bag, setting up tools and taking out a rune-chalk to prepare my spell. 

\--- 

_'...Youngest of the lot.' Passing voices wormed its way into my head. 'Wouldn't know what it's like out there...'_

_'Illiou better knew what she is do-ing!' Jay sing-songed, a senior of buccaneering, but not the Von Boyage necessarily. I could feel curious looks and skeptical whispers follow around me everywhere I went, and I wanted nothing more than to hole myself up in my cabin until everyone forgot what I even looked like._

_Swinging open the door, I found that our cabins were unoccupied, a sink in the covers where Laira normally_ _slept._

_I sighed, hoping to vent my pent-up troubles to her before I left. She wasn't around during the announcement, either._

...Did _Illiou know what she was doing?_

\--- 

I needed to create a good replica of the Oracle's Glass, enough to not attract suspicion, yet my pendant wouldn't be magically powerful enough to help me cast such a spell. I couldn't use the Glass on its own, like with the murkrat situation, since it was the target of my spell. Making a rune circle was my only other option, though my paws were hurting just thinking about all the preparations I would have to make. 

\--- 

_I felt a tap on my back, turning away from the rooms. Knautt was looking down at me, the hint of sea salt latching onto his scruffy beard. "Just so you know, I'm rooting for ya." He ruffled the top of my head. "I'm glad we're finally doing something about the entire Elise situation."_

_I gave a nervous smile and received a twinge of guilt._

_"Tou knows when to pick the right people." He continued, not seeming to notice. "Don't let the rest get to you. I'm sure you'll do great, Kit."_

_It was another nickname of mine, though I was more used to it being used to tease me. "Thank you, sir."_

_"That's Delmer to you, and if you say that one more time it'll be an order." He chuckled. "Please. Makes me feel old."_

_I smiled at him._ _"Thank you."_

\--- 

I etched the very last engravement down, rubbing my eyes while letting out a breath of relief. A faint tingle itched my fingertips thinking about what comes afterwards, and I knew it wasn't from the chalk dust. 

I didn't know how long it took me, but with my own perception of time it couldn't have taken any longer than an hour. I would glance upwards every few minutes during preparation; when the ceiling was being just a bit too loud, and when the ceiling was being just a bit too quiet. 

Another rifling, and I had the materials I needed to cast a duplication spell. I placed out the components and referred to an ingredients book, both of which were given to me by Illiou. I was surprised by a few items listed, and even more surprised that we ever had these on board. Caligo plasma, a few ascian pupas- even a frost quartz! Those were gemstones exclusive to the tundras south of Dytika. How did she get her hands on these things? 

After everything was said and done, I let myself take a few steps back from the complete rune circle. Now all I needed to go was keep in contact with it, and concentrate on the spell. 

It's a fine balance of awareness and unconsciousness, when it comes to casting something. You had to slowly draw your mind to a blank, growing that emptiness to fill with the energy from your rune circle or arcane source. But when that essence fills you, as you feel it flow through your veins and burst from the tips of your fingers in a hearth of brightness, it's easy to not let your attention falter as much. 

I opened my eyes. Everything looked to be the same, aside from the fact that the rune circle had now vanished. It's either successful, or something went horribly, horribly wrong. 

With shaky steps I took my strides towards the Oracle's Glass. I held of one of its bars, the coldness of its handles reminding me of Illiou's grasp around my shoulder. I remember her telling me that I was the only other one she could trust to even touch the Glass. 

_"The artifact affects you differently."_

Deep breaths, Borealis, all you have to do is pull it away. 

...What would happen if the spell didn't work? I didn't have enough time or ingredients to make a new one. The entire plan would go for a toss. I'd just be some fish-eating runt, destined to fail before the journey even started. 

I flexed each digit until something resembling feeling came back to them. On the count of three, I promised myself, I'll pull. 

One. Two. 

I heard a tapping noise from underneath me, promptly locking me in place. My limbs wouldn't coordinate with me, feeling my ears twitch incessantly as the tapping went on and on. 

But it wasn't tapping. 

It was a code. A code I recognized. 

I bent down and tapped a response to the floors. It was more like a tune Laira and I had made for each other, memorized and so deep in my memories that I was surprised I forgot. 

'J-u-s-t y-o-u-?' 

'J-u-s-t m-e'. 

'C-o-m-e d-o-w-n. N-e-e-d t-o t-a-l-k'. 

**\-----** **\-----** **\-----** **\-----**

**Jhakkii Paagal**

It's a good thing there was dirt nearby. My entire game plan was hinging on some dirt being nearby, honestly. 

"First things first- Let us begin with our rites to the battle Numen, Hoodoo!" 

I craned my neck looking for the disembodied voice, squinting under the full glare of the noon. The announcer continued, rambling on about something about 'the spirit of the battle' and 'the coalescence of mutiny and melodrama bleeding into each other.' Been there, heard that. I wanted to get a good look at my competition. 

There were twelve circular plates spaced evenly around the middle ring, just enough for each participant. A fence of obelisks protruded from between each circle once everyone took their places, limiting my view a fair amount. My own spot directly faced the judges, small dots of people in the distance. The same could be said for the other competitors- the arena was _huge_ , and you would have to drop down another four rings before you could hit its center. 

There was a sable-furred catfolk directly opposite mine, dressed in a colorful martial tunic. A curved white line stretched his face as we met eyes; a smirk, coy and fiendish. 

The crowd was cheering all of a sudden. I returned to looking at the totem pole beyond the judges, just in time to see two bolts of fire meld into the stonework. They stretched and coiled around the pole like a snake, creating an ever-lasting spiral of embers. The two depths that made the eyes came alight, and for a moment I could feel the stroke of a blaze hot on my own skin. 

"Let he who hears us bless us with quick feet, quick quips, and quicker magic still. Now, onto the rules! Not to worry, there's only three." 

Everyone around me seemed to be itching to get the fight started, shuffling and twitching in their place. A thrill of nostalgia rushed through me. Ah, was it good to face the prospect of a duel again after so long. 

"One- you are allowed only _one_ weapon of choice to use in your spellwork. Two- You cannot move outside the middle ring. And Three- No serious maiming or murder. Failure to abide by these rules will lead to immediate disqualification." 

Being Jhakkii, I would have shouted to the announcer to get it over with, to give the people what they want. 

As of right now, though, I wasn't Jhakkii. 

"Now to what we've been waiting for. Contestants- this is the zero round, the free for all. Put on your fighting gear, belt up for your best lines, and give your audience the spectacle of a _lifetime!_ Either by being forced out of the ring, or by being knocked out, the last eight standing will move on to the first round. If too many people are disqualified, then a roulette will be conducted to choose the remaining slots at random. You ready? Ten... nine... eight..." 

The crowd cheered on, and the blood was already roaring in my ears. Each number seemed to last a little longer, stretching the bounds of time itself to live a little longer. 

"Three... two... 

ONE!" 

\--- 

Do you ever feel like the world has jumped ahead of you by a few seconds all of a sudden? The brief tint of memories between what you remember and where you are now missing a three seconds-long gap? 

Either way, my ears were shot and I was suddenly seeing stars. That must have been disorientation spell- good fighting strategy, bad performance etiquette. Looks like _someone_ just might get disqualified. 

Shaking their heads out, people were beginning to cluster towards the center of the arena. A race to get to the strategic high-ground, while catching the eyes of the crowd at the same time. Me, though? I was planning on playing the longer con, and this was exactly what I needed. 

I kicked my legs back into one of the obelisks and pushed, sending me into the skies in a swift leap. I picked up a steady tune with my lute and waited until my feet hit the floor again. 

Two large jets of cobalt fire flew out from near the center, the tails of flame spinning from the lowest ring. A high-pitched cackling came from somewhere inside it, and I could make out the catfolk from earlier hovering just above the hellish tornado. The eye of the storm emanated from between his paws. 

I stuck the landing on the second ring from the middle, right behind an opponent. She whipped around, all wide eyes and thunder crackling between her palms. 

"Careful there, hon- wouldn't want to hurt yourself on those." 

I flung my thumb down on the strings and a black ridge of a soundwave rippled. The light in her palms died as she crumbled to the ground. 

A wind cut at my ears from my right, so sharp that a few strands of my hair left my scalp to follow that bolt of gale. It repeatedly hit the inferno like daggers, slowly eating into it. I leapt up the second ring until the whistles of air weren't dangerously close. 

I scanned my surroundings and switched to a heartier ditty. Just needed to bide my time, the perfect moment to strike. With a certain spell I could easily wipe the board, but when it comes to theatrics there was always a matter of the right time. The melody of the battle must be long enough to be satisfying, and short enough to be sweet. 

That's when I realized that I wasn't the only one playing the music. 

I twisted on my heels looking for the owner that second instrument. The firestorm was beginning to close in one side. Unfortunately, that side was mine. 

As the edges closed in, I knew the only way out of being charred alive was going up. If I used the cornerstone of the ring to launch myself at an angle, I could probably maneuver- 

I ducked just as an air shard flew past where my windpipe used to be. White robes fluttered above, like some kind of dismayed butterfly swaying towards the tornado. They continued to propel themself with their wind magic until they were at eye-level with the catfolk, staff clutched in one hand. 

The firestorm died out immediately after a prompt kick to the chin. 

At least the arena felt a lot more cooler, and the attention scattered between opponents when that threat was dealt with. I stayed light on my feet, mostly dodging my way past tawdry blows and blades. It's a hard thing, it is- to weigh the extravagance of your moves with its practicality, and I used that imbalance to my advantage. I'll need to save all the energy I can get for my showdown. 

The saccharine notes of another's battle instrument rung across the arena like my own, and for some reason I couldn't take my mind off it. 

Something wrapped around my heel and dragged me back, bashing my head into the ground. With the taste of blood in my mouth, I almost let my lute slip from my fingers. Blinking away the white spots, the world has flipped upside down, a thick vine roping me into the air by a single leg. Knifelike teeth edged the corner of my vision, a giant Orcion flytrap looming over me. 

Wait, who brought _plants_ in here? The entire arena was made of _stone,_ for crying out lou- 

The vine shot me skywards, and I was looking down at the gaping jaws of the flytrap. 

Now, the good thing about adrenaline is that you can think at a hundred miles per hour. 

The bad thing is that most of those thoughts are ' _Fuck, I'm gonna die.'_

Either way, I had maybe a second or two before I became part of the greenery. 

I hooked onto the lute and let my fingers play as fast as I could let it, arching myself so that I would hit the mouth feet-first. The lower half of my body was already inside, and I felt the mouth begin to close shut. 

I couldn't mess up a single note here- Just a few more plucks of the strings, just another second to spare- 

I didn't hear myself play the last chord, yet the shockwaves flew out. The flesh of the plant ripped apart from the impact, and I found myself standing in its remains. 

The music continued. 

I caught my breath and was acutely aware of my heart trying to kick its way out of my chest. My shoulder flared up again, but there wasn't time to think about that. 

A good number of people were either unconscious, or incapacitated by the same excess of vines. The caster must be somewhere out of my sight, and I must be out of their range. Everyone else seemed to have established their own duels, whittling monologues against each other. An amateur mistake. Now would be a good time as ever to knock the rest out. 

"Missed me?" 

I pivoted to the side when a slate of metal almost caught me by the chest. I whisked around and locked eyes with my aggressor. 

"Set your eyes on the one, the only, the Prognosti-" 

"Hmm, who are you?" 

His gleeful expression dropped. "You know," He whispered, "Vaeyr, from the ship?" He attacked me again, a broadsword twice his size. "You thought I was trying to kill you?" 

"Believe me, that doesn't narrow things down at _all._ " I hopped onto the blade on his next swing and crouched to get a closer look at him. I could literally play the current spell I was preparing in my _sleep_ , so I kept my focus split between him and my lute. He didn't say much after that, though. 

I shrugged. "Don't do arch enemies on the first round, sorry. Nice meeting you." Using that moment of hesitation I slung upwards and slammed my boot against his face. His shocked look slackened whilst he fell onto the floor, I following the gravity of his sword. 

I clapped the dust off my hands and adjusted my capelet. Well, that's one less person to worry about. 

There were a handful of people left conscious in the arena- nine, to be exact, including me. I could just bide my time and wait until someone takes an opponent out, easily securing my place in the next round. 

But where's the fun in that? 

I could feel my song coming to a close, a tug at my fingertips from somewhere deep underground, in the farthest reaches of the dirt. The tugging only swelled, a great chorus that pounded against my ears like fresh blood and made the earth itself tremor. The chorus was the heart of my act, the soul of my character, and I knew the world was looking down on me. 

With one last pluck, the spell was completed, and I felt the land tear in half. 

\--- 

_There was something strange hidden under the depths of Yarnpork, a boast of treasure that I could feel whenever I fidgeted with my lute every once in a while. I was attuned to the instrument in the same way it was attuned to this trove. Where the undulation of the oceanside suffocated them under layers upon layers, trapped and begging to be freed._

_What were they, you might ask?_

_Fossils._

\--- 

The great white head of a dragon's skull loomed over the arena, casting a shadow over the west seats of Hoodoo's sanctuary. 

On second thought, this might have not been the most effective course of action. Its skeleton was bigger than anything I had yet controlled before, a heaviness pounding in my head and tugging at my fingertips. I needed to do something before it collapsed and crushes everyone in here. It was either that that killed me, or the headache. 

With one hand I continued the song, the other reaching out towards the dragon fossil. I willed it to turn towards me as its ligaments rattled against one another. Vertebrae by vertebrae, I inched its neck towards the ground, where its hollow skull shuddered and glided across the field. Past the middle ring, the rest of the skeleton followed behind. I snaked its head from side to side, making sure it caught the attention of the other contestants. 

I clenched my fist and made a twisting motion. From the cavity of its resurrection its bony talons dragged itself into the air, wrists clicking. Even with the nausea flooding my senses, I forced myself to bring the claw down, where it scraped the walls of the arena and forced my opponents into its grasp. The vines and flytraps invading the center ring were plucked clean, like a tangle of weeds picked out from a garden. 

I pulled back, and the claw lifted everyone up, where they struggled against their cage of bones and the snare of the undergrowth. Past the rings and onto dry land, I freed them once more and decided to use one of the talons to give each one a cheeky pat on the head. They tried, at least. 

I released my control on the claw, where it splintered and fell limp on their backs. Now, all I needed to worry about was the rest of the skeleton. 

The headache was definitely not getting any better, and I had to make an effort to stop my knees from buckling into the ground. With all the energy I had left, the dragon's skull was laid to its side on the centermost ring, its neck bones hanging over the walls of the battleground. I placed my heel right on the hollow of its nose, lifting my eyes up and scanning the crowd. 

I was the only one left standing. The initiation round was over. 

And oh, was the cheering worth _everything._

\--- 

I rested my lute back to my side, the applause music to my ears and torture on my head. The clapping and hollering echoed against the arena walls, birdfolk whistling with a loudness that could rival my own soundwaves. 

"-And there you have it, a _clean_ wipeout!" The announcer roared, and I wondered if they've been speaking the entire time. "Oh, Hoodoo would be most pleased. 'Striders and 'trots, it looks like we have a winner, and a bit of a wild card at that. It's not every day you find a necromancer in your midst." 

The judges whispered amongst themselves and exchanged a few head nods as the cheering fizzled out. A golden bubble the size of my palm levitated from somewhere between the tables and hovered towards me. I moved my fingers to touch it but it simply phased through, instead dissolving into the skin of my throat. 

"We've placed a voice amplifier on you so you're better heard. Not to worry, it's only temporary." The announcer said. "Well, anything you'd like to say to your new-found fans?" 

I inhaled deeply, careful to not reveal my ragged breathing. I cleared my throat, looked up at the judges, and let my voice drop to a growl. 

"They call me... The Reanimator."


	9. The First Steps

**Jhakkii Paagal**

I was lying on something soft, the call of a mynah piercing the dark. The noon light caressed my eyes, a nudging on the side of my face coaxing me awake. 

Except I didn't remember falling asleep. 

Ero and Holav's blurred flanked either side of my vision, the former poking my horns. Holav's mouth was working, but with none of the words making it past the ring in my ears. 

"Did we win?" I blubbered. 

"Sit up, first." Their voice was a hundred miles away. 

I swatted away Ero's hand and propped myself up, cradling the side of my head. The three of us were sitting in an open clearing of the forest, a single oak tree granting us the relief of shade. The arena was nowhere in sight. Knowing how most of my mornings go after a visit to the tavern, the duel might have just been some kind of mead-fueled fever dream. 

"We won." Holav said. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. Great, I haven't lost it yet. "Where are we, then?" 

"Backstage, you could say." They moved their hand over and seemed to clasp an empty space above the grass. Lifting sideways, it was like a camouflaged drape came into existence, revealing the entirety of the temple and its rings just behind. The rear of Hoodoo's totem faced us, which meant we were at the back end of the stadium. 

"Invisibility cloth acting as show curtains." They released the blinds. 

If there was a ledge that the curtains hung over, I couldn't find it. I was doubly glad I wasn't drunk now. 

"So... why are we backstage?" I asked. 

"Because you passed out." 

"Aw, what?" I whined. "And after all that grave-raiding badassery, too." 

They sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of their nose. "Paagal." 

"Yeah?" 

"You're a necromancer." 

"Sure seems like it. Surprise!" I spread my arms out as if in celebration. "Told you I had something up my sleeve." 

"The ability to raise the dead..." I could already _hear_ them lecturing us for the next ten minutes. I kicked back on the trunk of the oak tree, resting my back on its gnarls. 

"It's one of the rarest and most shunned schools of magic, if not _the_ most shunned." They sounded slightly awestruck, though with a twinge of unease. "There has been countless reimaginings to the craft, none of them holding a candle to its original. In all my travels, in all my findings- not _once_ have I encountered a person who knew what was left of traditional necromancy. I thought it was a dead art, long gone to the ages." 

They looked up at me. "And you're using it as a _gig?_ " 

I stretched out my stiff neck, rolling down to the shoulders. "Oh, I know, the fans go crazy over it." 

"Where did you even begin to learn it? I-" They purse their lips. "Who _are_ you?" 

I flashed my teeth at them. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 

Another wave of nausea threatened to send me back into the ether again, and I relaxed my head. I pinched a strand of hair from the fiery tuft between my horns and brought it in front of me. When it came to necromancy, grey streaks tended to form in my locks for a while, especially after my performances. 

The strand was a stark white. 

"Do we have any aspirin around here? I grumbled, combing it back through my hair. "A healer, at least?" 

"Ero already paid for one. They sped up your recovery process by about three days, along with tending to a few stitches. If it still hurts, that spell must have done a number on you." They sent a concerned scowl my way. "Is this how you're planning on winning the remainder of the rounds? Nigh self-sabotage?" 

"Depends. How many more are there?" 

"Three." 

I thought about it long and hard for a good two seconds. "Yeah, I could take that." 

I tried pulling myself up back on my two feet but I was stopped by Ero, of all people. He pushed me down by my bad shoulder, making me wince. "Ow, _ow,_ careful!" 

"Jhakkii Paagal, you cannot and _will_ not continue putting yourself on the line for every round. There needs to be some restraint if you want to finish this tournament." Holav shook their head. "And if we keep spending our remaining talis on healing magic, we'll not have enough funds to deliver the letter." 

"I'll be fine, thank you. I can take my chances without any healing." 

"And if you're incapacitated in the middle of the round?" 

"Okay, jeez, I heard you." I rolled my eyes and lifted my hands up in surrender. "Moons above, you sound just like my mom. Just... let me explain." I brought a knee to my chest and continued. 

"Look, I don't always faint after _every_ spell I create, you know." 

They raised their eyebrows at me. 

"Shut up. I only perform necromancy on human skeletons and lesser animals. Maybe a whole crowd of them if I'm feeling up to it, no harm done." I picked at the grooves in my kneeguard. "But sometimes life gives you lemons, and by lemons I mean a massive fucking dragon to control. And when that happens-" I splayed my fingers out in emphasis, " _You control those massive fucking dragons,_ consequences be damned.So, if you could _kindly_ get off my ass about this," I inhaled sharply, "-that would be great." 

I relished the bewilderment on Holav's face. "Do you understand _anything_ by the word 'restraint'?" They cried out. 

I grinned. "Now you're getting it." 

The conch shells rung again, much louder than the last time, and I carefully plucked myself off the ground. The other two echoed my movements, Ero preening back his feathers. 

"The roulette trial." Holav explained. "They're going to select the other seven competitors for the duels." 

I chuckled. "Hah, seven. Wiped them out dry, didn't I?" 

Ero chirruped something back, but I was caught by something else moving in the background of the clearing. The rustling was too harsh to belong to a breeze or a softer creature, and I wondered if there was supposed to be anyone else 'backstage'. Probably just a bayfox, or the mynah from earlier, or- 

My shoulder began to throb again. 

I caught the blur of a lizard tail past the clefted bushes, and a pair of black, haunting eyes. A new wave of nausea hit me, but this time it wasn't from my injuries. 

Elise was after me, and she wasn't even trying to hide herself. That's when I realized something terrible. 

Ero had already lifted the curtains by then, ushering us towards a vacant spot on the audience rings. I tried to walk my best with the ground swaying underneath me. 

I wasn't being assassinated- I was being hunted. 

\----------------- 

**Borealis of Silverfog**

I hoped there wasn't a time limit on that duplication spell. 

The underground tunnels were a lot more draftier at this time of day. I could make out an outline of Laira standing in front of me, and the moment I stepped foot inside, she began. 

"So. I heard what Illiou told you. Yesterday. In the treasury. About the glass stuff." She lifted her hands in front of her as if in surrender. "And I _know_ you know it's a bad thing, but I _swear_ I wouldn't have listened if I wasn't worried about you, and really, this is a prime example of why I _should_ spy on the captains! Plus, it's a nice spot for my lunch breaks because the smell isn't as muggy and the tunnel to the kitchens isn't _that_ far off, so I- Sorry, getting off-topic. The point is-" 

I couldn't stop myself from shaking as I wrapped my arms around her. She immediately dropped into hushed ramblings, returning the hug as I hid my face in the crook of her shoulder. She smelled of engine oil and lemon grass. 

I managed to retch a few words out after Corveia-knows how long. "...I'm scared, Laira." 

"It's alright to be." She hushed. 

"We're travelling s-so far away... a-and there's- there's apparently a family that's g-going to come after us and... And-" I hiccuped. "I-It's supposed to be a secret but I don't know _why_ it's all a secret! I don't even know what's going to be out there." 

"Yes, you do." She held me away so she could look me in the eye. "Think about how far we had to travel from Silverfog when we first left, and everything we went through before we even _got_ to the _Von Boyage_! Sorrel and Mirol's gonna be there with you too, right?" 

"It's..." My ears were pressed to the back of my head in anxiety. "But it's not the same without you." 

She sighed meaningfully and wiped away a stray tear with a thumb. "But you won't be without me, remember?" 

I furrowed my brows. Her words did make me feel better, but she was using her 'I-invented-something-to-solve-that-problem' tone of voice rather than her reassuring one. 

" _Waaiiit,_ I don't think I told you. Did I not tell you?" Laira asked. 

"I don't think you did." 

"Wait, it's better if I show you instead. My study room is right around the corner. " 

\--- 

The place wasn't much more spacious than the treasury, but it was good as home for Laira. Once an abandoned room for an oil pump, Illiou had granted her access to the place for her various tinkerings and gadget-makings. In return she's been helping with any minor repairs in the ship, or for boosting its mechanical performance. 

A foldable table strewn with blueprints and a toolkit stood at the center, a few strategically-placed racks keeping safe her projects that were on hold at the moment. Most of her time has been occupied by a completely new project issued by the captains, something she has kept mum about even from me. Knowing her, though, she definitely wasn't keeping quiet out of a sense of discipline. I could already imagine the spark in her eyes on that fateful day of completion, as she revealed it as a surprise to the rest of the crew. 

"I was working on this old prototype a while ago, but after what I heard yesterday I thought it might help us stay in touch." She moved over to one of the racks and dug through the inadvertent curtain she made out of all her old designs. 

She turned around with a heap of metal plates and bolts in her hands, a new blot of ink on her face. 

"Ugh, hold on, this thing managed to tangle itself up." She tugged at the scrap pieces with dexterous movements until it managed to resemble a contraption. The device reminded me of a bat, spheres and plates of bronze carefully fused together to make the body. She bent the two leather sheaths that made up the wings at an angle, as if testing its flexibility. It was always hypnotizing, watching her hands work with such an easy rhythm. 

"I say prototype, but it did work pretty well the last time I had to use this." She flipped over the model and brushed away a stray dust bunny. "It's a carrier device, but I like to call him FLAPS." 

I snorted. "Flaps?" 

"Yeah. Short for Far-distance Letter Assistant Portable Service, duh." 

"And not because you wanted an excuse to call him Flaps?" 

"Ssh, pay attention!" She bumped our shoulders playfully. "He's hollow on the inside, just enough area to keep a letter scroll. I'll have to convince Jay to magic some enchantments on him so he can survive long enough to make it across the country, though. Maybe add a small tracking device because you'll be moving towns a lot..." She ducked her head and set Flaps down on the table, fiddling with some of the nuts and oiling the wings. 

"The point is-" She turned back to me. "We could use him to send each other letters each day! You can tell me about what you get up to, the action-packed travels, the tales of glory, and I can... dunno, tell you about the weather here, I guess." 

She gave me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

I reached over and placed my own paw on her hand, which fidgeted at the wing's end. "...You would have made a much better team leader." I murmured. 

Her palm relaxed in my hold, and she returned the gesture with a squeeze. "Oh, don't say that. You're a much better survivalist than anyone on ship could hope to be. What happens is gonna happen, anyways." Laira moved away and covered her nose, painting a metal coating over Flaps. "Illiou knows best, after all." Her voice turned nasally from pinching her nose, adding to the sarcasm. 

I curled and uncurled my fists, a warmth swelling in my chest. "Thanks, Laira. For all of this." 

"Hey, what are best friends for?" Her eyes flicked up at the ceiling. "Erm, wasn't there something about a glass you needed to pick up?" 

"Ah! Right. We should probably head out soon too, noon's arriving." 

"Yup." She patted me on the shoulder as I made my way out. "See you on the docks, then." 

"See you on the docks." I ducked out from the study's doorway and waved back to her. "Also- you've, uh, got some ink on your cheek." 

She lifted her hand to try and wipe away the ink blot, only to have the smear spread further. "Better?" 

I giggled. "Better." 

It was like a block in my mind had lifted. This time, when I returned to the Oracle's Glass, I completed the spell without any hesitation. Pulling back on its handles, an exact mimicry of the hourglass emerged from the same point, both forms splitting apart from each other as I cleaved the gap. From the resonance that felt like it was pressing into my soul, I knew that I held the true copy in my palms. 

I heaved it into my camping bag, shifting it to be more comfortable, and started to make my way back up. 

\--- 

It felt like hours had passed since the moment I sneaked into the pantry, yet from the shadows fast thinning on the docks, I knew that noon had only just arrived. The place was swarmed with familiar faces, most of them huddled around Sorrel or Mirol before they recognized me. I remembered words of goodbye and courtesies leaving my maw- between Headchef Peakley and my fellow cooks, Jay and Barnett the navigators, Theo from the night crew- even the night crew were here! It was hard to dodge the more pressing questions about Elise, but I tried to be as honest as I could without giving away our true mission. 

Captain Illiou and Knautt were standing by the front, both of whom seemed especially hurried. Eventually Mirol had taken his space besides the two, a few steps from the ship ladder. I took one last awkward handshake with deckswabber Euot and followed soon after. 

Illiou turned her head to me when I came, handing over a freshly-sealed envelope. "Keep this safe as well- Same address." She murmured. 

Sorrel was the last to part, languidly surfing across his sea of admirers to reach us. "See the lot of you in a week!" He hollered. The crew returned the farewell dejectedly, and I was sure their despair was more about him leaving than anything that had to do with Elise. 

There was a brisk pace of footsteps hitting the damp wood, and before I knew it Laira had sped over the docks to reach me. She threw her arms around my shoulders as a last goodbye hug. 

"Hey, looks like the hull-dweller has finally come back to the surface!" Someone crowed, creating a ripple of giggles. 

"Don't have too much fun without me, alright?" She whispered to me, pulling back. Her smile held a plaintive cheeriness, where the light caught just under the shadow of her braids. The ink blot was still on her face. 

I nodded and said something, and after a moment of thought she planted a chaste kiss on my nose. "For good luck." 

I rubbed at the faint heat in my cheeks while she stepped back, but it only intensified from the wolf whistles raised from the crowd. I decided the bowsprit was a much more interesting space to look at. 

It took a while before everyone else settled back on the ship, much to Captain Illiou's chagrin. The three of us looked over the sweeping gray edges of the port-town, as people kicked up sand and the lower part of the streets were flocked by a diversity of people. At this time of day, Yarnpork embodied the very concept of 'busy'. 

I felt like if I turned back now, my entire resolve would crumble at the sight of the _Von Boyage_. This wouldn't exactly be goodbye, but it didn't feel like a hello, either. 

I carefully put away the intricately-laced envelope I was given into my camping bag, replacing the space between my hands with the map instead. 

"So, first stop?" Sorrel asked, leaning over. 

My eyes flitted over to the first red dot, three days' worth of travel from here. 'The City On Fire', as they called it, though it was truly named... 

"Quickhelm." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to send the mapwork earlier but didn't have the time. anyways, here it is! i'll be placing this image in the 7th chapter as well.
> 
> cheers~


	10. Hoodoo's Roulette, Part I

**Holav**

The judges clapped their hands, and eleven golden orbs apparated into the bare sky. They began revolving around each other, like a bracelet of ochre pearls. 

"And here is where we begin the roulette!" The announcer called. Their voice was within the very hollows of Hoodoo's totem; at least, that's what I sensed. I found it a hard reason to explain how they were in a pole with such a small girth. "I advise the participants to think carefully before making their next choice." 

The orbs began to close in, circumference shrinking. 

"Though they are all indistinguishable, Seven of these orb spells are voice amplifiers. Each one will eventually descend into one of the twelve empty spaces on the middle ring. Pick the right one, and you can introduce yourself move on to round one. If you are unlucky enough to have picked one of the remaining four, well..." They chuckle. "Let's just say the results will be... unsavory. And hey, what's a roulette without any stakes?" 

The orbs were practically touching each other by then. In a flash of light, each one spread out and dived into the circular discs on the middle ring, staining it with a bronze-like color. 

"The spells' effects will take place only after everyone has picked their places. You may now _begin_!" 

It was a spright of chaos for those few seconds, during which I glanced over at Paagal to see what she made of all of it. 

Her head was twisted in a completely different direction, staring at some point past the trees of Yarnpork's forest. She had donned her mask by now, leaving her expression unreadable. 

I cleared my throat. No response. 

"I don't think this is the right time to be sight-seeing, Paagal." 

"Uh huh, yeah, sure." She said absent-mindedly. 

I rolled my eyes and looked towards Ero, who acted as a sort of barrier between us and the row of people on our ring. Namely, a nearby father and his child. He was busy cooing over a baby deerfolk, who was similarly enamored by his bright scarf. 

I sighed. It seems like I would be doing the strategizing for the three of us. 

\--- 

"Ah-hah! Another intellectual of the battleground, I see?" The white-haired apostle declared, swinging his similarly-colored broadsword. He edged the radius of the arena, a large-goggled adversary opposing him. 

_Of the twelve that had staked a claim on a circle, seven of them had chosen right, leaving the rest with the short end of the stick. The 'results', as it turned out, were minor hexes paired with their disqualification. The hexes ranged from_ _having their skin changed to a mismatch of fluorescent colors, to_ _swapping out limbs for tentacles._

_One was cursed to speak backwards and walk on air like an odd handstand, another chased by a hive of wild smelterbees. One had disappeared off the face of the arena entirely._

_"Ah- seems like Ms. Skyla has taken an impromptu vacation to Yarnpork's sewers." The announcer said cheerily. "Not to worry, the spells as you see them here should soon wear off in a few hours. Not even Hoodoo would take such caper too far. Now, let's see how our lucky few will fare in these next rounds!_

_The Prognosticator and Dr. Acula, please make your way for round one."_

The Prognosticator ran a hand through his hair and used the other to tilt the blade, crossing both's eye level. I could only imagine the strain on his wrist. "Take me on, then- an eye for an eye, wit against wit." 

There wasn't much else he could hide under his spotless uniform, so that sword of his could be his only arcane source. He uses his magic through clairvoyance- predicting the enemy's next move so he could counter it effortlessly. 

Why do I know that he's a clairvoyant? 

Because he monologued his entire fighting strategy to me on the _Von Boyage_ , pretending to toy with my life the entire time. 

Dr. Acula stood her ground, poised like a swan ready to strike the riverbed. Needless to say, I was eager to have her wipe that smirk clean off his face. 

She adjusted the straps on her hickory-pocked vest, where a large, glassy contraption resembling a decanter rested across her back. A colorless liquid laid inside, stagnant without her movement. 

On the side of the decanter latched a tube she clasped in her hands. With all of the devices and gadgets she had on her, I decided it was too early to guess what her arcane source was. It could be anything from the glass, to the goggles, to the very headband tying her frizzy hairs together. 

"Wits, perhaps..." She began. The Prognosticator inched closer, taking a painfully slow lunge at her that she dodged. "But you can't simply _think_ someone out of the stadium. You can't hold a shield with just one side, can't wield a sword without the handle." There was no emotions betrayed under her gold-rimmed goggles, but the leer in her tone spoke volume enough. "Why don't you start putting a little bite behind that bark, hmm?" 

"Don't judge a foe by their first strike, miss." His strides were long and sweeping, but Dr. Acula was right- he was far from wounding her. He was following the same move set that he played on me on the quarterdeck, but in an edgeless stadium like this, there was no tight space she couldn't escape from. 

She scoffed. "You flatter yourself, calling your useless strokes in the air a 'strike'. Stop disrespecting me with hollow words." Dr. Acula wasn't particularly agile herself, what with the hefty luggage on her, but even she seemed almost bored of the routine he was putting them through. Swipe after swerve, blow after bolt. 

The route he was taking them through wasn't completely aimless, however. He was deliberately pushing her back, making her sway to the mercy of his weapon. It was far from a fully-fledged dance, but there was definitely a cavort that he led. No, the Prognosticator was biding his time, waiting for something. A move she was yet to reveal. 

"Disrespecting _you?_ Why, doctor, you haven't even revealed the nature of your weapon yet. Can't you feel the spirit of our sparring grow mundane? The crowd itching for a battle to unfold? All I've done is ignite the flame- I wait anxiously for you to fan it." 

There it was. Her _weapon._ Even clairvoyance had its limits, as I suspected- if he didn't know _what_ he was up against, his premonition could only take him so far. Dr. Acula must have learnt this before I did, knowing that using her magic would be a double-edged sword. 

But if she wanted to win the game, she had to play it first. 

The liquid in her decanter began grow bright, dendritic scars, like plasma held in a glass. The lightning flew through the tube and danced at her fingertips, to subtle that it looked like they came from her own palms. 

"My _fanning_ will start nothing short of a wildfire." 

For once, the Prognosticator stopped his barrage of attacks. He let his sword fall to its side, the tip grazing the floor. 

"Then I'll dance through the flames with you." 

A vile laugh burst from Dr. Acula's lips. "Be careful what you wish for." 

The lightning she cradled burst forth, a shock of light that seemed to dim everything around it. It reached out to the sky first, a great purple blitz with an ear-splitting static sound. The bolt flew out in random directions, smiting the scenery, the stone, even the audience behind her. Everyone flinched, others screamed, but when the brightness receded nobody was harmed. 

I felt my mind racing, trying to spin together what exactly her spell did, letting my eyes fall back to the contestants. The Prognosticator had his own bolt embedded in his chest, but he stroked his hand across it like it wasn't even there. 

"Ah." He gave a nervous laugh, a knowing laugh. "I see." 

"Oh, there's nothing wrong if you want to forfeit the match now. Maybe I'd go easy on you." She grinned. 

He leaned his body to the side as if thinking about it, but instead used the tilt to swing into an attack. He dug the broadsword right into her midriff, where the fabric of her vest grew dark with what I could only assume was blood. 

Her mouth opened in a gasp of pain, looking down at the red smear. Suddenly, her decanter began to fill with a lavender liquid, the same color as the bolt etched in the Prognosticator's chest. His arms were beginning to shake, the tremor spreading out through his entire body. 

"Tch." 

The lavender turned to mauve, turned to violet, turned to a wine-dark. The smear in her torso began to recede, the vest mending itself. 

I constantly looked back and forth, trying to process what was happening. His face was turning as pale as a sheet, the sword slipping from his grasp. He shuddered and fell on his knees, head brought to the floor as he keeled over. 

Dr. Acula looked down on her opponent's unmoving form, the liquid turning no darker in shade. 

"-And _scene_!" The announcer called. "The judges will now decide the outcome of this match." 

The seconds passed, the masses waiting for some kind of verdict. Personally, I didn't think there was much to _decide_. It's clear that Dr. Acula was the only one left standing, so she was the obvious winner of this match. 

The judges were chittering amongst themselves, most of them nodding their head in unison. 

"Based on aspects of showmanship, character loyalty, combat skills, and general flair, Dr. Acula and the Prognosticator have been rated accordingly. 

Dr. Acula has claimed this match. She is the first contestant to move on to round two." 

The crowd broke out in applause, and I felt kind enough to give some polite handclapping myself. Dr. Acula knew who she was up against, trying to keep him blinded throughout the fight so that he couldn't counter her ahead of time. That was something I could respect. Plus, I was just glad that _he_ didn't win. 

Dr. Acula adjusted something on the side of her decanter. The liquid's color began to dilute, and at the same time the color returned to the Prognosticator's face. As he twitched awake, the doctor reached out a hand to help him up. 

Ah, so it was some kind of energy-draining spell she used, taking away his strength and converting it into a healing spell to recover quickly from her wound. Though, the entire exchange didn't need to involve a lightning show in the middle. 

A few other people rushed down to help him, the same healers I recognized helping us get Paagal backstage. 

Thinking about her, I turned my head to see what she thought of it. She had her chin resting on her hand, the other fiddling with her piercings. 

"Thoughts?" 

"About what?" She sounded slightly annoyed. 

"You'll eventually have to face her in the upcoming rounds, and what just transpired can give you a good idea of her skills. Finding an edge. Something to sway the odds to your side to win the fight." 

She raised her eyebrows. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"I think I'm being quite reasonable here."

She sighed. "Fighting isn't everything in a duel. Dr. Acula might have beaten him, but she won because she had the wittier quips, the harder stance. All of that has to be done in the heat of the _moment._ And if you want my masterplan _that_ badly: I'm knocking her lights out before she can drain the life force outta me. Happy?" 

"I..." 

"Hey, it worked just fine in the initiation round." 

"Well-" 

"Up next, we have the Reanimator, against..." The announcer's voice rung across the clearing, and we both whipped our heads forward. 

"...the Knightingale!" 

**\---**

I watched as the two entered the fray in tandem, Paagal being the first to draw her weapon- her lute, tucking it between her arms. 

Under their sweeping, russet cape, against iron-clad light armor, Knightingale pulled out their own instrument- a viola, sylvian wood brought to rest against the crook of their neck. 

"Aha, 'striders and 'trots, there seems to be not one, but _two_ musician spell-casters on the playing field. Let's see who starts this symphony, eh?" 

This fight was going to be rather interesting. 

Paagal was quick to start the action- diving into the center of the arena to meet them at the middle. Her fingers were already rapping the frets, working up a rickety tune while staring Knightingale down. 

In an unspoken agreement, they brought their own bow to their viola. 

There was a clear distinction between the two's playing styles- Knightingale had a sophistication to their composition; sweeping, somber tones that stunted the ragged, high-energy strumming that the Reanimator brought to the table. Their notes clashed and rung sour, a discordant battle between the deviant and the distinguished. 

It wasn't soon until their themes began to bleed into one another, the other growing warmer to the symphony. Knightingale caught up to her tempo, their sobering music adding a polish to her jagged edges. The arena felt alive, flourishing; not from the sound of metal blades clashing against each other, but from the sound of metal strings singing. 

One step at a time, as the encore was soon to arrive, Knightingale walked towards the Reanimator. Her fingers flexed, and for a moment I thought she would summon a shockwave to drive them out. Instead, she threw herself across the arena, aiming at their ribcage. 

"And- Oh! A clean swerve to the left, there. Let's hope the Reanimator didn't stub her toe on the stone." 

Quick to recover, she tried for a jab between the shoulder blades, but they were as quick to fall away. It continued like this for some time, neither of them using their arcane sources outside instrumentals. Neither of them were willing to drop the symphony of the battle they've created. Not once did the knight try to fight back, did they try to incapacitate her. 

It struck me as unnatural, as the seconds turned to minutes, that the Reanimator failed to lay as much as a hair on them. Maybe there _was_ an element of magic at play, a protective barrier they kept to stop her physical form from hurting them. 

They suddenly stopped playing, taking the bow and viola in either hand. The Reanimator hesitated, probably wondering why they had stopped when the music was far from a low-point. Using the cornerpiece of the ring to launch herself into the air, she returned once more to her brawl. She would occasionally taunt them into using their instrument again, yet now the Knightingale seemed to do the bare minimum of a theatrical stance. 

"What's this? It seems like the Knightingale is losing their spark." 

The audience was booing. If it continued on like this, the two of them might just get disqualified. Yet as both whipped directions, I could make out the hint of a smile on their face. Whatever they were trying, it was deliberate. 

There was more vigor to the Reanimator's blows, a pent-up anger that the other was carefully preening. It was rather obvious that she was favoring her right side– that shoulder wound couldn't _still_ be hurting her, could it? 

"Coward!" She spat at them. "What, have you decided I'm not worth the time of day, not worth the blood on your hands? Not even to fight back? You'll only take the both of us down like this." 

Knightingale gave a pointed look somewhere behind her. Following their line of sight, I made out the dry patch of soil where the dragon skeleton once rose from. The gigantic fossil had somehow been carried off between the time we went backstage and the time we went out, leaving a cavity in its wake. 

"Ah," The announcer mused. "It seems like our composing cavalier is making an offer of some sort." 

They wanted her to raise the dead again... But for what? 

The Reanimator immediately switched over, plucking a tune I was familiar with hearing during the initiation round. On the other side of the arena, I could see another split in the earth. 

Knightingale put their viola on the ready, two skulls popping up from the horizon. It was like watching a puzzle being pieced together- floating bones and cartilage rotating and twisting itself until they resembled two humanoid skeletons. I shivered- A little _too_ humanoid for my liking _._

She still had to continue her song in order to keep the skeletons reanimated, but she didn't seem paralyzed under the burden of controlling them- on the contrary, she made it look effortless. The skeletons seemed to have a mind of their own as they gravitated towards Knightingale, who readied their viola once more. 

When they played this time, they played in harmony to her song, copying the strides to her strums. Their motions synched note-for-note, most likely using some kind of clairvoyance to read her movements ahead of time. 

And if they were busy using their magic for clairvoyance, that means their protective barrier must have dropped. 

Even as his three opponents started to surround them on all sides, they leaned into their instrument and played like no one else was there. She could easily take them down when they're being _this_ vulnerable to attack. They even had their eyes closed! 

Once again, Knightingale cut their own melody short, turning to smile at the Reanimator. 

With a start, I looked back to see that she had been swaying on the same spot for a while, head lolled skywards. There was a glazed look over her face, fumbling over the chords. 

What in the four seas was going _on_ inside Paagal's head? 

**\---**

**Jhakkii Paagal**

Do you know that feeling- just as you fall asleep or get out of bed- where every fiber in your body refuses to listen to you, and you feel like a limp sack of millet trying to toss yourself off the mattress? 

That's apperantly what it feels like to be hypnotized. 

I felt my muscles lurch, ebbing and flowing to the motion of their viola. The fatigue had already worn out my finer motor skills, and even as I struggled, all I could do was feel the beads of sweat down my back and my lungs screaming for fresh air. 

In hindsight, I should have probably seen this coming. Hypnotism spells were pretty common in duels when you've tired your enemy out, and it was already taking the last trickle of stamina to keep me from keeling over. 

I didn't think any of these amateurs had the _skill_ to pull off one, though. 

The Knightingale smiled at me, teasing their bow across the strings as I felt my legs taking a step back one note at a time. Something edged into my head, but it wasn't a voice. It was more like a suggestion, an untold lyric. 

_'Give me a twirl.'_

Despite my knees feeling like gelatin, I pirouetted on the spot, pulling gyrates and swaying to the demands of their melody. Embarrassment rose to a sharp insult on the tip of my tongue, but it felt impossible to open my mouth. 

_'Few steps back, now.'_

I mustered every ounce of willpower I had to carve my heels to the floor, keeping myself from leaving the arena's center ring. 

They frowned, picking up the tempo, every command they pulled from their chords latching onto my anatomy. My fingers moved with a mind of their own as I focused on staying put, but this wasn't something I could keep up forever. There has to be a way to break this spell. 

_'Make them drag you over the middle ring.'_

Before I knew it I was playing along, using my lute to summon my backups towards me. Skeletal hands gripped either sides of my shoulder and started pulling backwards, my feet turning limp and my willpower growing weaker. 

I was starting to lose feeling in my limbs, like any sense of movement was slowly being cornered into an itty space inside my head. My calloused fingertips stung with an unfamiliar warmth, as if the Knightingale was focused solely on me continuing the song of the dead. Their grin grew farther away from me as the ends of the arena slowly came into sight. 

I decided that if anything, I would have _loved_ to regain control over a certain finger. 

It wouldn't take much more than seven steps to tip me over the edge. Everything up to this moment would have been for nothing. 

Cross that out, make that _six_ steps left. 

Okay, panicking won't look too good right now. Think, Jhakkii, _think._ People have been hypnotized plenty of times, and they got out of just fine, right? It's all about finding an anchor, a chain in the depths of your mind that can yank you back into reality. I just needed to find something that could do that, and fast. 

Five steps. 

My senses were only getting foggier, like being trapped inside a cabin while there's a storm outside. You get a kind of tunnel vision, time seems to slow down, you can barely hear anything over the downpour. The cold numbs your skin, there's fleas eating into your carpet, tragic music plays in the distance, and you're wondering why you're even _in_ Lokesville when the weather is this bad- 

Nevermind, This metaphor is starting to slip away from me. 

There's still that obnoxious, melancholic music playing in both scenarios, anyways. 

Three steps. 

Melancholic music... 

Knightingale was fueling their spell _through_ music, and unless I magically had some candlewax to pop into my earholes, it was something hard to ignore. 

You can't stop a song from reaching your ears, but you _can_ stop it from reaching your mind. All I needed was something to give my complete attention to, find a way to block out the melody for just a second, and I could salvage this entire situation. 

So what exactly was going to be my anchor? 

Okay, maybe something that makes me happy. Cheap Thrills. Cold sweets. Good song. Better dates. The adoration of the crowd, the thrill of a spar- No, no, that's the _last_ thing I needed to think about right now. 

Bad soap operas. Light liquor. Autumn leaves. Hard liquor. Fluffy farm animals. 

...Well, I'm not getting any less hypnotised, and that edge is definitely coming closer. 

Two steps short, to be exact. 

... _Really_ fluffy farm animals? 

Well, Maybe it can't be a happy thought. Maybe it has to be something more grounded, something I needed. The money to get back home. My friends and family waiting for me back in Dytika. The world watching my every move with baited breath. The need to get out of this _stupid_ spelland shove my foot up Knightingale's- 

In the blurred, sketchy gauze of a background I saw it again. Right by the audience rings, hiding in plain sight, under a muted cloak and green scales. Those murky black eyes, brimming with newfound hunger. Cold rage. Standing only a few feet away, her message was loud and clear. 

The Duskstars were here. And they've decided my time was up. 

Fear seized my chest like it never had before. 

One step. 

A new wave of adrenaline coursed through my numb veins, the words _RUN_ flashing red and screaming behind my eyes. I flung my arms back and stumbled backwards, where the forearms of my skeletons detached with a 'pop' sound and fell with me. Their forms shuddered and started to scatter on the ground, and I realized I had stopped playing my song a while back. 

I locked myself in place and twisted to meet Knightingale, savoring the stunned look on their face. I had to preserve my energy so they couldn't pull me into hypnosis again, of course. 

Couldn't move without wasting energy, couldn't win without moving- what's a necromancer to do? 

Have the undead do your dirty work for you, of course. 

I sent out a shockwave for good measure, relieved to feel the magic come out of my own will. 

"Sorry to burst that bubble," I breathed, "but there was only one way I would be walking out this place-" 

The disembodied arms on either side of my shoulders fell off, as I sensed my minions being pieced together under my spell. 

"-a winner." 

And with that, I unleashed mayhem on them. 

It turns out that mind-control powers aren't of any use if your attackers are unthinking servants from the dead. Their viola scraped the floors as they fell, and soon our duet came to an end. 

"-And _scene!_ " 

There wasn't any wait for a verdict this time when the people broke out in cheer. I couldn't relish the applause right then, though. 

In what felt like a heartbeat and an hour, I turned my head back to see if Elise was still there. 

There she was still, unmoving, like a ghost haunting me in my wake. She lifted her claws from under her robes, and for a second I thought she was going to take me down right there and then. 

Instead, she curled the digits into her palm, forming a symbol with her hands. 

_Seven._

"The Reanimator has superseded this match," The announcer's voice felt a continent away, "and will be moving on to round two." 


	11. Hoodoo's Roulette, Part II

**Ero Dawnbreeze**

I fluttered down to meet Jhakkii as she was escorted out of the middle ring, Holav chasing the steps behind me. The Knightingale was being carried off in another direction, laid to rest under Hoodoo's totem as the healers began to encircle them.

"They're with me." She waved her escorts off, turning to look at us. I puffed my chest out in pride. We won!

"Well done." Holav nodded approvingly. "That hypnotism spell seemed to be rather well-prepared. Of course, I trust that you knew how to get out of one already-..."

She brushed past the both of us without a word. Not even a retort.

I didn't like that. 

I knew she didn't seem as excited about winning than earlier, but the last thing I expected was the cold shoulder. There was a hunch in her posture as she made her way to our usual spots on the seats, hand raised to rub at her forehead. I swapped an equally puzzled look with Holav, following behind them.

As I sat down, the infant deerfolk tugged at my scarf again, tiny hands making grabby motions at the small ring on the cloth. I chuffed and unhooked the ring, dangling it in front of Blitzen Jr. and watching him babble and swipe at it like a toy. His father chuckled at the sight, continuing to make polite conversation with me.

"...My wife is one of the judges, so I pay her a visit every once in a while when I'm off work. Junior here likes watching the bright colors, too." Blitzen patted his son on the head. "How about you, then? I see you're not watching from the sky rings like the other Skytrots." He gestured to the highest row of seats. "Not to make any judgements, but, well, you know the saying- birds of a feather..."

I tilted my head. Being down here was just fine. It wouldn't make sense to leave the other two behind, either. 

"Up next," The announcer finally called, "we have Hemlock, versus... Pyrrro!"

\---

On one end of the stadium came a wizened man in a carob toga, a crown of shrubs resting on his head. The only thing that stood out from his simplistic outfit was a pair of scuffed Locksley boots, along with the numerous satchels that circled his waist like a belt. I recognized him as the one who raised all of those dangerous plants in the arena- even the flytrap that almost bit Jhakkii in half. My feathers flattened out just thinking about it.

The other end saw a dark-furred catfolk, jumping on the balls of his feet as his tail lashed back and forth eagerly. He fretted with the chain of his nun-chucks, each end holding a circular, bright red ball. He would be the one who had created that firestorm in the initiation round.

"Ah, a botanist and a pyromancer. A classic clash of the elements- Earth and Fire. Where one creates, the other destroys. Where one feeds, the other consumes. There can be only one who flourishes in this round, and in doing so, I have a feeling these two will be tearing up the stadium. Grab on to your seats, everybody!"

Jhakkii's foot tapped the ground expectantly.

The ends of the nun-chucks came alight, spurts of flame growing brighter by the second. Without a cue, the catfolk surged forward in a burst of fire, aiming to knock Hemlock upside the head. Just before it brushed his beard hairs he dropped to the ground, hands digging into his bag-belt. Pyrrro whisked around to see Hemlock scatter handfuls of muddy seeds to the floor. 

Oh, I knew how this went. He would sprinkle something over them, and- _Boom!_ his plants would mature into man-eating death traps in _seconds_.

A stream of fire fell over the seeds. "Oh, no you do _not_!" Pyrrro cackled. His nunchucks were wrapped around his arms like a snake coiled from one end to the other, the ends spitting out fire spells at his will.

Hemlock jumped out of the way of the crossfire, continuing to pull out fistfuls of seedlings to only be turned to ashes by Pyrrro's weapon. A steady layer of cinder began to coat the arena's rings, so much so that the catfolk would slip on the ground if he didn't continue to propel himself with those jets of flame. 

"Die! Die!" He screamed all the while, living for the destruction.

The left of my vision was briefly covered by Jhakkii's arm, where she raised a hand to fidget with her piercings. Her leg was still bouncing.

"What now, Hemlock?" Pyrrro taunted. "I won't stop at just your precocious little garden. I want to see the flames _dance_ in your eyes as I burn your dreams to the ground."

Hemlock shirked away from the fiery downpour, surprisingly quick on his feet. "There are times, where earth and fire work together to aid the forests. When the trees grow old and the soil turns dry, the flame lays the trunk to rest. What is created is a new, richer undergrowth, teeming with prosperity."

He stared up at him. "This is no wasteland you've helped me make, my friend. This is a swidden."

With that, he flicked another sprig of seeds, where they sprouted even before hitting the floor.

Dots of yellow grew from the center ring, and when I blinked a massive green stalk tore across the skies. It was like a cloud shadowed the sun, twigs the size of pillars shooting to reach Pyrrro. With a yelp he gyrated to the side, narrowly avoiding going out of bounds. He was screeching the entire time.

"Get back here!" He cried, but his bolts of flame couldn't get through the tangle of the overgrowth. Hemlock used the moment as a distraction, throwing out seeds across the floor to let come to life even deadlier, long-winding plants. The fertility of the ground had boosted his power immensely.

I was half-aware of Jhakkii's squirming on the spot, head shaking once in a while.

Pyrrro's attacks easily burnt holes into the leaves and the vines, but for every singe in the sinew, several more shrubbery superseded them. He used the recoil on his fire spells to propel himself through the air, while Hemlock continued to sprinkle drops of water over the earth. It wasn't just a match between two of the elements, but all four of them. The crowd was aweing and cheering already, but as the smell of scorching foliage began to spread they became less enthusiastic. It was still a sight that I couldn't bear to tear my eyes away from, both vicious and alluring in its own right. 

"Oh, enough of this." Jhakkii hissed. 

She kicked herself to her feet, making her way to the nearest flight of stairs. The people behind her protested her blocking the view, but she didn't seem to care. Holav shook their head just as I got up from my seat, and we both went after her.

\---

She was pacing the sides of the stadium, just where you could see the action if you looked around the corner. She froze in place as she watched us arrive. "Don't you want to watch the match?" She asked.

"We should be asking you the same question." Holav said.

"Oh, don't start worrying about me now." She waved a hand dismissively. "Just got some things stuck on my mind."

I was distracted by a primal roar of fury blasting my senses. Pyrrro released a jettison of white-hot flames that bore a kind of tunnel into the plants, just where Hemlock stood. Pyrrro shot through the vines, hitting him square in the chest and sending him flying over the middle ring. The crowd was in an uproar.

"And there you have it! A clean finish on Pyrrro's end!" The announcer yelled. "Let's see what the judges have to say for that..."

"Oh. Great. Round's over." Jhakkii said over their voice. She turned and began walking away from the stadium. I looked back at the arena and squawked in protest- The tournament couldn't be over yet!

Holav took a few steps ahead to meet her. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some fresh air. What does it look like?"

"It _looks_ like you're going to be disqualified." Holav pointed to the judges. "What happens if they call you on now?"

"Oh, I'm only going to be needed for round two, and that's happening tomorrow."

"How do you know it happens tomorrow?"

The announcer interrupted them again. "Both our contestants put up a good fight, but the judges can only decide which one is fit to move on to the next round. Though both proved to be near equals in battle, it seems the cleverness of a certain botanist was what won over the judges' favor. 'Striders and 'Trots, please welcome Hemlock into the quarter rounds!"

The crowd cheered again, and even from here I could see Pyrrro throwing a hissy fit.

"And now, onto our last show for the day..."

"It always happens tomorrow." Jhakkii replied after the applause dropped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to Yarnpork to clear my head out."

Holav took a step away. "Well, _I'll_ be staying back, since it seems like I'm the only one actually worried about getting home safe."

Jhakkii rolled her eyes and adjusted the mask on her face. "Not like this stadium is going anywhere." She muttered.

I looked between Jhakkii and Holav as she fell into the backdrop of the forest. They looked like they had more to say, but as their eyes rested on my face they gave a solemn nod and turned away. 

The smell of burning vegetation grew stronger by the second. I followed after Jhakkii.

She's normally never surprised to see me, but as I stepped on a surprisingly crisp leaf she practically jumped to the skies. Which made me jump back. It took a while for the both of us to recollect ourselves.

"Coming along, eh?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "Better company than that killjoy back there, at least." I decided to take it as a compliment. We both stood in the same spot for a while as I waited for her to navigate us back to the dock town.

She looked back at me. "Which way is it to Yarnpork again?"

I hesitated, looking around to see if I could make out the clay walls of the town from here. The forest rested at an uplift, and with Yarnpork's unusually low roofing pattern it was hard to see much of it here. I tilted my head to the side as I picked up a chattering noise north from where we were. I tried tracking its source down.

"You know, you could just fly above the trees and find out how far we are. What with the two big red wings on your bac-"

I yapped as my beak hit some kind of invisible drape. I pawed over the surface to see if there was another way around, but Jhakkii sighed and simply picked it up from the ground. "No, Ero, this is the Backstage. The tavern would be the other way-"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Reanimator!" Someone called. Jhakkii stiffened. 

To my surprise, I was in a room with all the participants from the Roulette. The chattering I had heard earlier was from a conversation shared among the four landstriders, but their attention quickly slipped over to the two of us. The chatter had died off quickly, and I felt a tension rising among Jhakkii and the rest of the participants. I braced myself for a new match to begin, this time behind the scenes.

The catfolk, Pyrrro, took a few steps towards Jhakkii. There was a shine to his eyes as he bared his teeth, one paw raised.

He then clapped her on the knee.

"Mighty show out there!" He said in utter delight, a charming accent lining his words. I realized his teeth were bared in a smile. "Did not think today I would be walking into a dinosaur museum!"

I felt Jhakkii relax under his friendly demeanor. "Thanks. You make setting the arena on fire a damn pretty sight as well."

"Not enough to stoke the judges." He pouted.

"Oh, please, they bound to get tired watching a pyromancer duel every other day." A new voice piped up. Dr.Acula stood at the farther end of the backstage, polishing her decanter. "Fire spells are by far the most common magic I see in tournaments. Find something more original and see where that gets you, Pyrrro."

He huffed. "Like I would be taking advice from a _Typical_." 

Dr.Acula looked taken aback by his words. "Well, _this_ Typical made it to the quarter rounds, so you probably should." 

"The hell is a 'Typical'?" Jhakkii asked.

"People with a poor affinity to magic." Hemlock spoke up, resting against the trunk of an oak tree with healing bandages wrapped across his waist. Though his eyes were downcast, his gravelly voice ushered in silence from the rest of the group. "The power of a spell depends on the innate skill of a caster. To people like Dr. Acula and I, we find it harder to cast spells as compared to others. We're called Typicals because, well, we look like typical people. Flesh-colored skin, natural shades of hair, average height..."

"It just means we have to work harder to get to where we are." Dr. Acula said, pointing her cleaning rag at Pyrrro. "And it's a pretty touchy word to use, so watch the tongue, mittens."

As Dr.Acula bickered with him, Hemlock turned to Jhakkii. "I suspect you're not from around here, are you?"

"Not any of your business." She said lightly, to which he gave a small chuckle.

Dr. Acula had swiped away Pyrrro's nunchucks, holding them at bay while her other hand easily pushed the puny catfolk away. She looked over at the two. "I thought so. I don't see the whole 'raising the dead' shtick that often around here, and believe me, that's saying something." She nodded over to where Knightingale rested, beside Hemlock. They were still unconscious, being tended to by a few healers. "Wouldn't want to be the person that got clocked by a group of skeletons."

"I get the feeling you're not a fan of the dead." Jhakkii murmured.

"On the contrary, a lot of my work has to do _with_ the dead." Dr. Acula adjusted her goggles. "The 'doctor' in my name isn't just for show."

Hemlock nodded sagely. "Ah, a healer that likes to duke things out when she's off her working hours. What a noble disposition. Does that decanter of yours have any medical properties?"

"Nothing that you'll know until the Roulette is over, plant-man."

In the meantime, Pyrrro had managed to scamper up Dr. Acula's arm and grab his weapon back before she could blink, letting out a triumphant sneer. "Oh, we don't need to ask _you._ " He tittered. "Your clairvoyant opponent would know _exactly_ what that jar held."

"Who, the Prognosticator? He left this place the moment he recovered from my injuries, back to... wherever he lives. Said something about me becoming his 'worst nemesis'." She gave a nonchalant shrug. 

"He tried to make me his nemesis as well." Jhakkii said. "During the initiation round, too. I mean, come _on-_ you should declare your undying hatred for a person only _after_ the fifth duel or so. Anything before that comes off as a bit... desperate, you know?"

Dr. Acula scoffed. "Amateurs."

A strange feeling came over me, but I couldn't seem to shake it off. It felt like there was an extra presence in the room, aside from the six of us.

"Anyhow, Ero and I were looking for a way back to Yarnpork." Jhakkii patted me on the arm. "Think you could give us directions?"

"Are you not going to stay back to hear the judges' reviews?" Hemlock inquired. "They give their detailed interpretations on all of the participants' characters, recounting the tales-"

"Yeah, no, I just need to find the nearest tavern and get wasted right now."

Dr. Acula laughed. "Now you're speaking my language. "

"Ah! Ah! Poundcake is winning!" Pyrro yelled out. For a moment it looked like his head had vanished, leaving the rest of his body standing next to the invisibility curtains. It took me a few seconds to realize that his face was poking outside the show curtains.

"Poundcake?" Hemlock asked.

"One of the contestants for the final round of today." Pyrrro shirked his head behind the drapes again. "It is unfortunate you do not have ears as sharp as Caracalfolk like I. I hear the announcer's narration from here- it is quite exciting."

Dr. Acula walked over and wrung her arm across Jhakkii's shoulders. "Say, how about we all head to _The Tipsy Jug_ once Knightingale wakes up from their coma, and before the rest of the crowd goes over and makes a mess of the place? Drinks on me." She tempted.

"Anything to get out of here." Jhakkii said, and there was almost a plea to her tone. It wasn't long until the entire room agreed, save for Hemlock's stern refusal.

Between Knightingale's slumber and the duel happening just past the curtains, it wouldn't be long until we'd make our way back to Yarnpork again.

Even then, the feeling just wouldn't shake off. It felt like someone was watching us, eyes planted behind the bushes and beneath the tree roots.

"How about you, Ero? Care to join us?"

I nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got hit with a pretty big case of writer's block and decided to take a step back from this draft for a while. not really happy with how this chapter came out but hopefully i can't get back into the flow from here on out :)


	12. The Tipsy Jug

**Borealis of Silverfog**

The chitterings and bellows across the marketplace soon began to fade away as Sorrel took us down a trodden road, a winding path that strayed from the bust of Yarnpork. I scooped a handful of talis from the pouch Illiou had given us, thumbing across each coin and counting up the total value in my head. This would, hopefully, be enough for the three of us.

The disparity of white noise was soon replaced by a barrage of animal sounds coming ahead. Freshly-polished fences rose from the plains ahead like a barbed crown, lined across an assortment of stables that were easily seen across the sun-beat field.

The worn path gave in a few feet from the entrance to the stables, the short blades of grass tickling my feet. On its open gate hung a sign that read 'BESSY'S STEEDS'. There was a large bite mark at one of the edges, which was saying something for a piece of hardwood dangling a good twenty feet in the air. The smell of wheat, the harsh sunlight on my eyes, the endless squabbling within the enclosures, it was merciless to my senses. Not without the sharp stench of... natural fertilizer. There was a rustic charm to the entire place, though not a single steed-herder was in sight. I made my way to a cabin ahead of us, wondering if we could find someone to help us there. My eyes flitted over all the animals in each stall, a variety of different sizes and breeds.

"Take heed to not get anything too fancy." Mirol spoke up. "We need only a fast-footed steed, such as toilboars or dune-skippers. Anything too fancy and we'll draw too many wandering eyes. Be humble."

I peered through the cabin window, though it wasn't well-lit enough to make out anything.

"I don't think there's going to be anything _that_ well-bred here." Sorrel walked over to a frog-like steed that came up to his knees, crouching down to meet its eye level. "Aw, look at this little thing. Too small to carry any us, though. D'you reckon-"

"Ah, a blue-webbed simmertoad!" A rosy-cheeked woman appeared out of thin air, making me jump. "He was just returned last week, a few micefolk rented him for a quick trip south of here. To Adster, I think." She pouted her lips in thought. "Well, I suppose you three are looking for something?"

"Are you Bessy?" I asked her nervously, glancing back at the flea-bitten sign.

"Sure am! Are you guys from around here?"

"We're..." I started before she interjected. 

"Oh, from all those knapsacks you're heaving around I'm sure you're not sticking in Yarnpork for long. Would you be interested in our Humpbacks? They're the finest cargo-steeds, bred to carry the heaviest of chattels!"

Her excitable talkativeness reminded me of Laira, and I immediately felt homesick. 

"-Just a swift-steed would be fine. The three of us need to get to Quickhelm as soon as possible."

"Oh- Quickhelm, is it? Right this way!" Bessy led us to one of the bigger stables in the ranch house, which was a starkly quiet place in an expanse of chittering and thrilling.  "It's becoming a bit of a hot-spot these days, isn't it? Not to worry- these paws here can carry you across the east in no time. Or wings, if you're trained in jockeying flying steeds."

Sorrel snapped his head straight in eagerness. Mirol glared daggers at him. He sighed. "We'll pass." 

"Alright, then. Your loss. I think I'll have right what you're looking for in this stable."

The inside smelled of moss and barclay, dull thuds of cloven hooves against the dirt.

As I padded inside I could make out their figures more clearly- slender, feline bodies whose sleek fur were speckled in shades of blonde and ginger. Their long necks lifted gracefully to meet us, beady eyes vacant as they chewed on the saltine rocks placed in the feeder.

"Ah, Moormogs." Bessy sighed wistfully. "They're a joy to see out in the open, and their short coats is especially well for the savannahs and sand dunes you'll have to push through to reach Quickhelm. Absolute sweethearts, too." 

She turned back to us. "Well, go on, take your pick! I'm sure they're all itching for a change in scenery."

**\------** **\--------------**

**Ero Dawnbreeze**

_The Tipsy Jug_ was a sight to behold at this hour. A band of partially bruised, bright-cloaked scrappers strutting past the tavern's doors. It wasn't long until a crowd started to pour in, with a small posse of their fans both old and new herding around the contestants. Warm words were exchanged between meal and drink, and as the liquor began to settle in, it was practically raining talis.

I had wandered over to the counter, squeezing my way through the landstriders that crowded the other spotlights in the tavern. Which, speaking of-

"-What do you mean, you don't have any more sweetbread left?" Jhakkii asked one of the many workers lined up at the counter.

"Well, Madame Smalltart isn't available right now, so our bakeries will take longer to make." The bartender replied to her, hurriedly swapping orders with the other guests between conversation. Everyone seemed to have a ravenous appetite after the duels.

She gave him a blank stare. "It's _bread."_

A few people just left the tables beside her, leaving a gap in their wake that I shimmied into. I couldn't hear the rest of Jhakkii's exchange over the noise, instead looking around for a bit.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Holav seated next to me, the only other familiar face here. They seemed to be poring over a book they had kept on the table, and even when they greeted me their eyes didn't shift away from the pages. There was a steeliness to their gaze.

I offered a polite squawk, asking them how the rest of round one went.

"Gun."

I asked them to repeat that.

"Someone brought a gun to the duel." Holav locked me with a deadpan look. After a pause they looked down at their book.

"Hey."

Someone had their arm slung across my back.

"Yes, you- tall, dark and feathers- that's who I'm talking to."

I moved my head fast enough that I almost bumped heads with him- long-earred and blue-skinned, he held himself with a pretty elegant poise for someone in a wool-rimmed tunic. He scratched at a touch of peach fuzz on his broad chin, dark eyes half-lidden.

"This one's on me." He pushed a barley wine just under my talons, the mixture frothing at the brim. "Why don't we get to know each other?" He breathed.

"Typical dosages of alcohol are fatal to Skytrots." Holav stated, not looking up.

For a second I saw a scowl on his, before it vanished like it was never there. "Oh, I'm sure the gentleman can handle his ale." His voice was silvery, confident in a way that that made me unsure of what I was supposed to do with myself. Fatal or not, the smell of the drink reminded me of quailberries, and before I knew it I had the glass half-empty and the room spinning. The stranger punctuated the air with a few questions about my home life, listening intently as I recounted what I knew. His eyes widened at some parts, especially when I mentioned the kidnappings, but otherwise seemed unshaken.

"So," He eventually tilted his head to a busy table, where Jhakkii had everyone's attention ensnared with a skillfully-played song. She still had the mask on, along with the rest of her attire. "Your friend seems to be making quite a mark on this place, isn't she?" 

I swayed back and forth to the beat. I couldn't have agreed with him more. 

"A little bird told me that the two of you know each other quite well. You work for her act, do you not? As a bodyguard, perhaps?"

Affronted, I felt myself fluff up, and he shifted back as if I threatened him. "Oh, don't take me the wrong way. You're definitely a cut above her little gaggle." His usually smooth words stumbled over each other, "- I just mean to say that... ah, she trusts you, doesn't she?"

I tilted my head back in a satisfied nod. Now we were getting somewhere.

"Can you keep a secret for me, Ero?"

I shrugged and leaned in, almost slicing his nose clean off with my beak. He regained his composure and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Listen. There's been eyes on you since the moment you left that boat, and I've come to find out about your little... money troubles. Now, see, I could easily give you the nine hundred talis you wanted. Far more than that, frankly. All I ask of you is one thing."

As the song Jhakkii played came to an end, a spark of magic came into life from the insignia on her lute. I watched as the wine in her glass drained of color, its blood red shade lifted into the air as it balled up into a dark red orb. Jhakkii sucked in the orb, before puffing it out in a billow of smoke. An intoxicating aroma filled the room as she laid back, relishing the awe.

"That lute. Hornblende-edged, heavily enchanted, it's a one of a kind design, something I've dearly wanted for all these years. I'll do anything to get it." He looked into my eyes with an almost hungry look. "Please, you're the only one who can do this for me. All I need you to do is sneak it past her without her knowing, just for a day, and-"

Well, I've heard enough out of his smooth talking. I lolled my head back and headbutted him, where he promptly crumbled to the floor. Stealing from a friend? Who did he think he was talking to?

My ears recognized the voice coming towards me, and I nearly swung myself off the seat trying to listen better. 

The catfolk next to Jhakkii was talking, his charming accent paired with wild gesticulation. "She had never even seen it coming!" He threw his paws out, though they only reached past the group's shoulders.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to wake up to my living quarters on fire, either." The scary doctor lady was with them too, piping up.

"You're a riot, Pyrrro." Jhakkii ruffled his head. 

"Oh, please, that is the name that I keep for the stage. Call me Brindle."

"Sure thing. Hey! Knightingale! Never told me yours, did you?" Jhakkii turned to the willowy figure of the musician she dueled with that morning. "Do I need another rematch to get that? A serenade?"

Their shoulders shook in amusement, nimble fingers signing.

"Wait, no, do that slower. I haven't used Dytikan Sign Language since-" She interrupted herself, almost stepping right on the face of the man that I took care of. "Oh, wow, okay, that guy is _out._ "

"Hah! Enjoyed the evening's delights a little too early, I suspect." Brindle crouched down and gave him a light smack in the face, though with no response. "Others, help me to get this man to a good bed."

Jhakkii slowly inched away from the scene as Knightingale hauled him up by the shoulders. "I think I'll stay back, you three. I have my own evening delights to enjoy."

Brindle nodded, and eventually the rest of the group left to carry him up the stairs.

"We'll need you if we have to raise him back from the dead!" Dr. Acula said lastly, giving everyone a good chuckle.

Jhakkii sat herself up on the counter, the staff too busy to chide her for it. "I swore that's the same guy who was being weird about my lute a few hours ago. Strange." She murmured. She finally unmasked herself, placing the skull in her lap. "So, what were you eggheads doing while I was gone?"

A hiccup came out of my beak instead of an answer.

"Drunk already? 'Atta boy." She grinned, though there seemed to be a strain in her expression. The tic has been there since the initiation round ended, but she kept hiding herself behind that mask whenever I tried looking closer. 

It struck me that there was a third person in this conversation. I shuffled over to see what Holav was doing, and they had somehow buried their nose in the book even further. Except that they were scanning a blank page.

"Hello?" Jhakkii waved her hand in front of their eyes. "Panimar to Holav?"

That's when I noticed the quill between their hands, dotting something down in squirts of blue ink. Even when I could make out the handwriting, the script was completely different from the one I saw on the poster. Whatever language they were writing in, it wasn't Landspeak.

They yelped, and suddenly the book was in her hands. "Do you _mind?_ " Holav hissed.

"You're just begging for your diary to be read if you bring it to a place like this." Jhakkii licked her finger and dramatically flipped across the pages.

"It's a _journal._ Besides, unlike most written work, this one isn't in Landspeak. There's nothing for you here. So, if you'd be so kind as to give it back-"

"Mhm." She landed on a random page and began reciting a paragraph, pronouncing each word with a natural tone of voice like she had spoken it her entire life.

She looked up and gave a simpering smile, Holav red in the face. "You do realize that the entirety of South Dytika knows Inahi, right? Plus, it's bad showmanship to not know at least a handful of local languages."

" _Give it back."_

"Make me." She casually scanned the tattered pages, easily dodging Holav's attempts to grab it back. "You really need to work on your drawing skills-" She ducked to the side, "Ugh, 'magic theory' this, 'transmutation' that; Do you ever write anything _interesting?_ "

"That's because-" They took another swipe across the counter. "-It's- A- Travel- Log. There's absolutely-" They paused to catch their breath. "- _no_ personal information in those pages." 

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "Then who's Roma?"

Holav froze where they were standing, as if physically paralyzed. 

"I mean, you write all these entries here as if you're talking to them. Are they family? An old friend? An old flame?"

Their fist slammed into the table, pink lightning sparking at the knuckles.

" _Give me the damn journal back."_

"Right, right, alright." Even Jhakkii knew she had crossed a line then. She hastily tossed it back and hopped off the table, all three of us looking at the ashy dent they had made on its surface.

"Well, I think I'll check in with Brindle and the others." She wandered back. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Holav ran their hands through their hair, taking in a deep breath as if to calm themself. I was snapped awake from my drunken stupor for a heartbeat, shocked by the almost animalistic growl behind their voice.

Jhakkii barely made it past a couple of steps when they spoke again. "Your shoulder is still hurting."

She didn't turn her head back. "What?"

"You wince whenever someone touches your left shoulder, and you favor your right side during all those fights. It's hard to not notice." They take a few steps towards her. "That's not the point I'm trying to make, though."

Jhakkii finally turned to their voice, taking a long stride towards us. It wasn't unlike how she poised herself right before a duel.

"Go on." There was no emotion behind her voice.

"You've been constantly looking behind your back, busying yourself in tasks and getting agitated when things don't go your way. I simply chalked it up to your... temperament... but I knew you were adamant on not returning to that ship. Whenever you _did_ look over your shoulder, it was in the direction of the sea."

They made rapid movements with their hands as they spoke. "And then today. After you fell unconscious, you most definitely noticed something in the forest. Looking over your back more often than usual." They narrow their eyes at her. "You didn't see something. You saw some _one_. A someone from that ship that left much more than a dagger to the shoulder."

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "Fucking hell, you're a detective too?" She muttered.

"Well, it's only fair that I can ask some invasive questions as well." A smugness touched their tone. "So? Anything to say for yourself?"

"What I have to say-" she said pointedly, "-is that it's none of your business."

"Your performance at the duel relies on both your physical and mental integrity. It _is_ my business."

She hesitated, dropping her hands back. "Well, don't worry about it. This entire 'situation' has been going on since before we even _got_ on that damn ship. I have it under control."

Something told me that she was saying that just so she didn't have to think about it.

I picked at the bag I still kept on my belt. Jhakkii needed to confront the truth, one way or another.

I walked over to her and put a pelvis bone on her hands.

She groaned. "Ero, don't do this to me."

I gave her a more scrutinizing look, and she caved. "Alright. Meet me in my room. And bring something strong with you- Enough to let me forget the last few hours."

As she left to the stairs without a word, Holav breathed out an incredulous "Pardon?". I managed to convince her in the span on 5 seconds than they could in minutes.

\---

"Let's just say-" She grunted, uncorking a bottle of Spiceberry ale. "-I'm keeping a promise." She began gulping down its contents at. Before either of us could protest, she said, "Don't worry, Hemlock pays for the drinks tonight. Plus, I'll need the liquid courage."

She put the half-empty bottle down, letting out a rattling sigh.

"Let me give you the short story and the long story.

Short story is- I have a week left to live."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first piece of original published work :) just needed a public platform to share it with my friends.  
> Any and all feedback is appreciated!


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